


Ghost Song

by HadenXCharm



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Commitment, Developing Relationship, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunting, M/M, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: Ichigo's never believed in superstition, religion, or the supernatural, and that included ghosts, so when weird stuff started happening around his boyfriend's house, he brushed it off as nothing at first. However, when he's confronted with the pale white face that mirrors his own too many times after nightfall, he begins to wonder whether Renji's house really had been taken by a dark presence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween guys.

_Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone._

_Boy with a broken soul, heart with a gaping hole._

 . . .

 

One would have expected it all to begin on a dark and stormy night, but in fact, Ichigo remembered it being a normal afternoon.

His boyfriend Renji had snatched up this old property for cheap out in the boonies a couple months prior and it was all he’d talked about since. Renji was really happy and proud of himself, bragging almost nonstop – Ichigo suspected it was partly due to the fact that now no one could call him a freeloader, and of course, he had a place to invite his baby over to spend the night.

Ichigo still lived at home, so it admittedly did sound nice to be able to sleep over at his boyfriend's place and have privacy, what with Renji’s house being in the countryside, tucked away in the trees in a little mountain town. The downside was that although it had been left in alright condition, it hadn’t been lived in for some time before Renji had bought it, meaning it was disgustingly dusty and the yard was a jungle.

They’ve done a lot of work on the inside and cleared out a couple rooms so that Renji could at least live there while they fixed up the rest. He’d come over a bunch already to help clean up the front yard and cut the grass – by hand with gloves and a knife, because mowing when he couldn’t see the ground and any rocks or sticks that might be hidden under the wild grass might just break the mower. Not to mention Renji's yard wasn't flat, instead set on the same steep incline as all the surrounding roads. Just walking up and down the driveway as many times as he had, Ichigo's butt ached.

They'd moved on to the backyard, which was more flat, considering it was part of the same shelf of space that had been cleared off to build the house on. Ichigo actually really liked it back here, despite all the work still left. Once it was cleaned up, a little flower patch, a bird feeder, and some patio furniture, it'd probably be really nice.

Renji's backyard was a shaded area surrounded by woods that was just barely too small to be called a field. The grass was certainly tall and wild enough to qualify it as such. That afternoon, Ichigo was out cutting through the thick tangle of grass and weeds in the heat of late spring when he suddenly straightened up and moved back, startled. He let out a huff a moment later, scowling sourly and wiping his forehead with his wrist. “Ah geez,” he muttered with a grimace.

“What?” Renji piped up, abandoning his job of gathering branches and big stones rolled down from the mountainside and moving them off the yard-space. Walking over, he came up behind Ichigo, who pointed at the bare patch he’d just cut.

“Look.”

“Oh.” Baring his teeth in a ‘yeesh’ expression for a second, Renji waved off the sight. “It’s okay babe, it’s just animal bones.”

Ichigo folded his arms, frowning at the strange sight. Renji didn’t seem to know what to say either, brow furrowed, as if trying to figure out what the sun-bleached bones – quite large ones, in fact – were doing there. “Why’re they in a pile like that?”

“Maybe the neighbor's cat comes here to eat birds or something?” Ichigo’s mouth widened skeptically, but Renji waved a hand. “I mean, we're out in the woods. Who knows what it was."

Ichigo made a noncommittal noise, leaning his weight to one side. Renji stood next to him, squinted at the stack of bones, and then offered, "You don’t have to touch those if you don’t want. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.”

“I thought they were people bones for a second,” Renji joked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “No you didn’t, don’t be a weenie.”

“Okay, fine, but still. Creepy though, huh?”

Ichigo took his gloves off and flapped his shirt around to get some air on his sweaty chest. Renji put his hands on his hips and looked at the pile for a few moments more with a curious expression. “Whatever,” Ichigo muttered. “Your yard’s a fucking jungle, no wonder cats were bringing shit here.”

The bones were way too large to be anything a cat would eat - in fact, it was more likely the bones were something that could eat a cat, but he didn’t bother correcting himself. Renji got a garbage bag and put the bones inside, taking them to the small fire-pit he’d made to burn dead branches and the piles of grass Ichigo cut.

They kept at it for another hour or so until the sun went down, finally going into the house to eat dinner and relax. The place still had a lot of work to be done on it. There weren’t leaks or drafts or bugs or anything, but the inside hadn’t been maintained by the seller and the yard was nasty. Renji’d cleaned up the front room and closet, the kitchen and the ground floor bathroom, and an upstairs bedroom and bathroom, and had furnished them, but the rest of the rooms were dusty and mostly vacant, the doors kept shut.  

It was a pretty alright place. There were creaky floors and old lights, but Renji just beamed with pride whenever Ichigo came over.

That evening, the two of them were watching a movie on the couch together with the lights off. Renji half-lay across the couch, his arm around Ichigo to cuddle him. One hand wandered under the blanket tossed over their legs to rub his inner thigh and play with his fly. Ichigo let him do as he liked, paying him little attention in favor of watching Rodan destroy a building.

About halfway through the movie, he had to go to the bathroom, so he nudged Renji’s hand away and got up and went.

The bathroom had been fixed up only to the point that it was functional. The water ran from the tap and the toilet flushed, and although Renji took showers here, Ichigo wouldn’t. It looked like a goddamn murder scene with the rusty drain and the broken wall tiles. All the refurbishing they’ve done in here so far consisted of doing an initial sweep of the floor and gathering the cobwebs, fucking with the toilet spring system until it flushed, and putting peach hand-soap on the sink counter.

While he was in there, he kept hearing Renji messing with him, whispering his name, trying to be scary. Ichigo ground his teeth together and sighed, unzipping and watching a spider crawl up the side of the toilet.

“Ichigo.”

He knew it was just Renji, so he merely rolled his eyes and wasn’t freaked out in the slightest. After the fourth time, it was getting annoying though, and he at last called out for him to quit it.

“What?” Renji replied from some distance, having been quiet enough to sneak back into the living room without making a peep.

“Dude, cut it out,” Ichigo demanded flatly.

“. . .”  Renji was quiet for a second or two. “Cut what out?”

Ichigo groaned and let his head flop back on his shoulders. God, Renji could be annoying sometimes, especially when he got it in his head that teasing him was funny.

It kept happening, and finally Ichigo’d had enough. He shook off and zipped up and came out of the bathroom, finding Renji, of course, sitting on the couch like he hadn’t just been trying to fuck with him.

“I don’t know if you think this is funny, but it’s fucking not!” Ichigo yelled at him. Renji stared at him, mouth ajar.

“Huh?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb!”

“... Whadda’ you mean, who’s dumb?” Ichigo glared at him, setting his jaw. He was not in the mood to entertain this shit tonight.

“You’re the fucking worst,” he said at last, turning and stomping back to the bathroom, grumbling and huffing through his nose.

He turned the sink on to scrub his hands, and not five seconds into cleaning his nails with soap, it happened again. “Renji, I fucking swear, I’m this close to dumping your ass!” he hollered, completely fed up.

“Ichigo, I’m not doing anything, I’m way over here!” Renji cried from the living room, the fucking liar. Ichigo slammed the water off, furious, and reached for the lightswitch.  

Not a moment later, the noise happened again, and the moment Ichigo’s hand touched the lightswitch, without having flicked it off, the light suddenly shorted out and switched off, plunging him into complete darkness.

After the moment of surprise, his shoulders dropped and he sighed. “Great,” he muttered. They had to fix the lights now too.

A second afterwards, he heard low laughter just next to his ear and jumped out of his skin.

“Ichigo? Hey, what’s the matter?” he heard Renji call, definitely from the living room, definitely not the one who’d just laughed. When Ichigo didn’t answer, frozen stiff from dread, he could hear Renji get up, his footsteps echoing as he came down the hallway.

“Ha ha haaa…”

Ichigo unfroze then and threw himself against the bathroom door and bolted down the hall, running straight into Renji and slamming into him hard. Renji grabbed him and reflexively laughed, probably thinking at first that he was just fucking around, but when he pulled back and saw Ichigo’s face, his expression dropped. “Whoa, you’re white as a sheet!” he said, aghast, putting a hand to Ichigo’s cheek. “Ichigo!”

Ichigo squeezed Renji’s arms with his hands, not breathing, his gut clenched up tight as he stared back at the bathroom, heart pounding.

Renji chuckled a little bit then, running a hand over Ichigo’s hair and the back of his head. “What happened? Did you see a ghost or something?”

Ichigo swallowed hard, his expression hardening. Renji had been fucking with him after all, hadn’t he, and he’d fallen for it.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” he said flatly, and shoved away from Renji viciously. That fucker had played a prank on him. He fucking hated when Renji did that kind of shit.

He was mad at Renji for the rest of the night. If Renji had been trying to get handsy before, he could fucking forget it. When Ichigo gave him the stink-eye for long enough, Renji eventually started playing the stupid act again. “What happened?” he hummed, reaching a hand out to try and brush his cheek, banished to the other side of the couch.

“Don’t touch me,” Ichigo snapped.

“Ichigo, what happened?” he insisted in concern. Ichigo slapped his hand away with unnecessary ferocity. “... Whoa.” Renji held his hands up in surrender.

“You think you’re funny, but you’re not!” Ichigo glared at Renji, who clammed up and shied back. “Fuck you, you think it’s funny to scare me then act innocent about it?”

“Ichigo, what the hell happened, I dunno’ where this is comin’ from,” Renji coaxed, smiling with his brows pushed together.

“Pff’,” Ichigo scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Whatever man."

Later, after he’d cooled off a bit, Ichigo put softie cheese on a plate of crackers while Renji went to get the next movie. He was still scowling and butthurt over letting Renji get one over on him. Fuck though, that had really spooked him. Ichigo still couldn’t figure out how Renji had pulled that one off.

He caught sight of Renji passing down the hall behind him, and Ichigo watched as Renji went and peeked in the bathroom curiously, playing with the door and inspecting the squeaky hinge. Renji flicked the switch, and the light turned on. Ichigo scowled.

So he still won’t admit that he was punking him. Looked like it was going to be the long con, huh?

“Jerk.”

 

. . .

 _Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone._  
  
_Let her find a way to a better place._


	2. Chapter 2

Scaring Ichigo once must’ve not been enough, because Renji kept messing with him anyways.

Ichigo loved Renji; he did - but if there was anything he hated about him, anything that drove him insane, was when Renji thought he was being funny when he wasn’t. One of the reasons they’d used to fight so much when they’d first met was because Renji acted like a dick sometimes and fucked with him because he thought it was funny to tick him off for no reason.

As their relationship had progressed and Renji had gotten a crush on him, he’d started teasing Ichigo, and although he'd toned it down now that they were together, it was a habit he hadn’t completely broken. Renji sometimes still teased him way past the point where the joke had run its course.

Ichigo knew he was fucking doing it again, trying to make him think that the house was haunted or something. He didn’t know how Renji was doing it yet, but he refused to let Renji trick him. So he didn’t get scared whenever anything weird happened, he just got really fucking mad.

A few days after their movie night, they were out in the backyard in the cleared out patch they’d organized, using the second-hand patio furniture they’d gotten from a nearby garage sale. After reading for some time out in the sun while Renji dragged plywood to block off the rotting boxes around the garden plots near the back porch, Ichigo went in to get them some drinks.

When the screen door swung shut behind him and he walked through the back utility room into the hallway, he stopped and sighed, noting that all the doors in the hall were open and every light in every room was turned on.

He peeked around the stairwell and saw that all the doors up there were open too. Renji must’ve come in here and done it when he wasn’t paying attention. Wow, real spooky.

Ichigo groaned, “Uggggggh.”

If Renji thought he was putting all that back the way it was, he was sorely mistaken. Ichigo walked into the kitchen and made lemonades with ice, hearing a floorboard creak outside after a few minutes.

He poked his head into the hallway, and for a second, blinked and did a double-take. He’d thought he’d seen someone down at the other end. _‘What the fuck is he doing?’_ Ichigo wondered in exasperation.

Ichigo walked down and looked around, but didn’t see his boyfriend anywhere. He sighed. “That loser,” he cursed, and promptly jumped when a book fell off the shelf next to him.

“God damnit.”

He leaned down and picked it up and then went back into the kitchen, shutting some of the doors on the way. He’d intended to just leave it, but the dusty rooms made the house stink.

Ichigo added ice to their glasses in time for Renji to show up, wiping his sweaty forehead and coming up behind him to peck him on the cheek and take their drink glasses in his dirty hands. Ichigo didn’t react to the affection, making to walk around him and go outside.

Renji tried to hold out an arm to slow him down. “Hey,” he called, “Why’re you in such a bad mood lately?”

“I don’t trust you,” Ichigo said suspiciously, turning and walking down the hall. Renji frowned, following him.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I know what you’re up to.”

“What?” Renji wondered, sticking his lip out. Ichigo was getting really tired of the pretty-face empty-head routine.

“Act dumb if you want. You’re trying to spook me but it’s not gonna’ work.” He stopped in the hallway to glare at Renji harshly. He wished Renji would just quit this already. It was just plain annoying.

“What? Scare you how?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes and made to walk away, but before he could even fully turn around, a lightbulb shorted out above him, and he startled badly. “Shit!”

Renji started laughing when the bulb flickered back on more quietly and then off again. “Geez, Ichigo, why’re you so jumpy?”

Embarrassed and furious, Ichigo scowled. Renji kept snickering a little and made some sympathetic noises like he was an angry but adorable toddler, which infuriated him.

“Your house is a piece of junk!” Ichigo kicked the wall, leaving a black scuff mark in the molding, and then stormed outside, slamming the screen door behind him.

"Aw, babe, c'mon!"

"Just fuck off!"

Renji stayed indoors for a time to leave him alone. Ichigo wasn’t mad long, sitting out in the yard alone and staring off into the woods. Renji eventually came outside and turned on the radio once Ichigo cooled off, singing goofily while he stomped around in the hedges lining the back porch and pulled out dead leaves and weeds.

Ichigo leaned back in his patio chair and watched the clouds, listening to Renji sing.

He and Renji have been dating for over three years and sure, they were boyfriends, but it’s all been pretty low-key. If he could describe their relationship in one word, it’d be ‘whatever’ - that level of teenage indifference and ambiguity and immaturity perfectly illustrated how casual it all was.

This whole ghost-joke thing has just reminded him of the big bland _whatever_ in their relationship.

Ichigo knew Renji loved him and everything, but sometimes he wished Renji could be serious, and he just _wasn't_.

“What’re you thinking about?” Renji asked, at last taking a break and setting his empty glass on the metal table next to Ichigo’s. He sat down in the chair next to him, reaching out to brush his knuckles on his arm. Ichigo sighed.

“Nothing.” He looked up and gave a half-smile, holding a hand out to take Renji’s, dirty nails and all. “You checked out the woods yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you,” Renji said, stacking their glasses and drawing a full smile from Ichigo. He could see it now, Renji staring wistfully out the window on a boring evening alone, dying to go stomping around in the woods exploring, but making himself wait so they could go together. That was one of the reasons Ichigo felt so strongly about Renji, was that sometimes he did thoughtful stuff like that.

“You wanna’?”

Ichigo put a hand up to block the sun, peering at the sky. It was still a few hours until sunset. “Yeah, just lemme’ get my boots on.” Renji hopped up from his chair suddenly.

“Oh, dude, wait here,” he said. “I got boots and gloves for cheap the other day. You’re gonna’ love this.” Ichigo waited while Renji bolted inside for a few minutes, enjoying the warm breeze and the birds until he came back. He brought Ichigo these bright blue gloves with yellow decals, the palms and fingertips padded with textured grips.

Ichigo held them up and looked at them. “Dude,” he said. “Gay.”

“So you like them?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet!” Renji crowed, spraying them down with DEET and then bounding out into the yard. “I hope we find some frogs!”

Ichigo smiled with a sigh, bent to tuck his pant legs into his socks and lace his boots, then followed after Renji. Even if it could be hard sometimes, that _whatever,_  he couldn't deny that Renji sure did understand him.


	3. Chapter 3

_The air grows cold around me and you, it’s cold._

_You know that he’s there._

_. . ._

 

The next morning, Ichigo got up and got dressed, kissed Renji goodbye and threw the blankets over him before he went home.

That weird melancholy feeling from last night started to creep in on the way home on the train. He got a spot close to the window and watched the countryside shoot past, swaying gently as he held an overhead strap.

Sometimes if felt like this thing with Renji wasn’t going anywhere. It was part of the reason he hadn’t made a big deal to his family even though it’d been like three years now. It’s just, they were in their twenties, and Ichigo still sometimes felt as though their relationship was about as serious as that of a highschooler’s. It was nothing to brag home about.

It wasn’t that Renji hadn’t committed to him exactly, it was only that when Ichigo looked at, say Ikkaku and Yumichika, he couldn’t imagine himself and Renji ever being that serious, that secure and responsible. It was like those two were married, and he and Renji, well… It was like those two were adults and when he looked at his relationship with Renji - they were still just acting like kids. It was like nothing had changed in three years together.

Whatever, he didn’t know. He was probably being crazy. It wasn’t like there was any problem or something, so there was no point in breaking up. It's not like he had anything to be sad about. Ichigo would just go with it like always.  
  
There was that whatever again.

On the upside, they had been fixing up a house together and had actually cooperated really well. He probably couldn’t have seen them nailing two boards together a year ago, so that was some progress.

When he got back to the clinic, he took some time to change clothes and relax until his family got home. A couple hours after, his sisters came home from university, happy to see him.

“Nii-chan, you’re back!” Yuzu called. Ichigo doesn’t know why she still called him that, but he wasn’t complaining.

His sisters noted that he’d been away from home a lot lately, and Ichigo gave a half-guilty grimace, replying, “Yeah, I’ve been spending a lot of time at my boyfriend’s house.”

Yuzu blinked at him. “You have?” 

“Yeah. Renji, you know Renji, right?” he hummed offhand, searching the kitchen for food and ending up grabbing a banana off the counter.

“Uhh, yeah,” Karin said flatly, giving him a weird look. “We know Renji.” Ichigo about smacked himself in the forehead.

The girls knew Renji really well, considering Ichigo’d had him and Rukia over a ton in high school. They’ve known him for years, and Ichigo had mentioned before many many times that they were boyfriends. He must be more out of it than he’d thought.

“Oh. Sorry, just a little distracted.” He put a hand to his forehead. “I’m tired.”

“Ever since you two got together, you don’t come around the house much with him,” Karin mentioned, opening the fridge herself. Yuzu started to fidget at seeing them snack on anything that wasn’t a homemade meal.

“Yeah, he used to freeload here all the time,” Ichigo muttered, drawing a snort from Karin.

“Are you going to bring him over for dinner soon?” Yuzu piped up innocently. At least with her, Ichigo could be sure she wasn’t faking the doe-eyes, not like that loser Renji.

Ichigo grimaced, hip resting against the counter. “Why though?” he wondered. “It’s not like he hasn’t come before, an’ you guys know who he is.”

“I know, but to show dad,” Karin contributed flatly. Ichigo shot her a frown, not liking to be ganged up on. His sisters knew how to play good-cop bad-cop really well and they’d dupe him in a second if he let them.

“Dad knows who Renji is too.”

“Ichi-nii-san, bring him to make him part of the family,” Yuzu pleaded when he kept being stubborn. Ah geez. Ichigo looked away with an eyeroll, rubbing the back of his hair. Not this.

“Yeah, Ichi-nii, we haven’t had an intervention.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.” He said it, but he didn’t plan to think on it very long. His whole family knew Renji and that they’d been dating for a few years, and there was nothing to talk about. Everything was fine like it is. Ichigo didn’t see the need to be so dramatic about it when there was no reason.

The following week, he spent the night at Renji’s place after a date and sex. He and Renji had been asleep in bed for some time when Ichigo woke up in the night to the sound of someone slamming doors downstairs.

Once he became fully alert and understood what he was hearing, Ichigo clung onto Renji’s side, frozen stiff all over with dread. The banging ceased for no more than a moment, and, as if the source of the noise somehow knew he'd woken up, it continued rather suddenly, coming closer, stomping up the stairs rapidly.

Ichigo tried to shake Renji awake, but he slept on. “Renji,” he whispered desperately, so scared that his throat was beginning to tighten up, “Wake up, wake up.”

He was so fucking scared, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t _think_ as the thumping got closer and closer, coming down the hallway towards their room. Hoping it might pass by, he just held Renji as hard as he could, burrowing himself under the blankets.

To his dread, the door opened and someone walked inside. Ichigo could hear the floorboards creak and then cease at the end of the bed. He stopped breathing, holding absolutely still, his head buried against Renji’s side.

The sound stopped and a few seconds went by in dead silence. Ichigo’s eyes frantically flicked around and he held Renji like he could keep them safe by holding on tight enough. Was it still there?

A moment later, weight was put on the bed, like someone was trying to crawl onto the mattress, and Ichigo _freaked out._ He yelled aloud in panic, kicking the blankets down, his body coiled up tight with adrenaline.

Renji woke up finally after getting yelled in the ear, turning the light on, wanting to know what the fuck was going on, but Ichigo just sat there and panted, his eyes wide as he looked around frantically - but everything was silent. All the noises had stopped and no one was there.

“What’s wrong?” Renji rasped. “Ichigo, what’s wrong?” Ichigo just kept staring around the room in frightened confusion. There really was no one there. The door was shut too, like it had never been opened.

Renji took his face in his warm palms. “What’s the matter, baby,” he whispered, less as a question and more as a comfort. Ichigo was shaking all over, cold sweat sticking his clothes to his body, and he didn’t know what to say to Renji. He didn’t even understand what had just happened, how could he explain it to Renji without sounding stupid, _insane even?_

“Bad dream?” Renji murmured, rubbing his thumbs against Ichigo’s cheeks. “It’s okay.” He put his arms around Ichigo and held him, and Ichigo let Renji pull the blankets back up and lay him down. His muscles were still tight and he breathed fast, trembling, but Renji rubbed his back and rubbed his face in his hair, kissing his head. “Shhhh. Shh, shh.”

“I’m fine,” Ichigo breathed, “I’m not a baby,” but Renji cuddled him anyway, and although Ichigo felt comforted, he still couldn’t fall back to sleep until the sun rose. He felt like a little kid again for the first time in a long time, scared stiff under the blankets and not daring to move an inch in case the monster saw him again.

Rationally, he knew it must have been a dream. He can't explain it to himself otherwise. Maybe Renji really had gotten up in his head with his stupid pranks and he'd dreamed it all up. Thinking back, it's true that he hadn’t actually _seen_ the door open or seen anyone there with the way his head had been shoved under the covers, so he could reasonably attribute the whole thing to blind irrational terror taking hold of his brain.

Even so, Ichigo felt sure that someone had been there.

_. . ._

_I died so I could have you, I died so I could haunt you._


	4. Chapter 4

In the ensuing days, Ichigo puzzled over what had happened. Although initially he'd tried to pin it on a very realistic dream or Renji pranking him, he didn’t see how Renji could have orchestrated such a scary and elaborate prank as that, and even though Renji liked to make him mad, Ichigo didn’t think he would ever be quite so cruel or mean as to try and scare him that badly.  

But if it wasn’t Renji, Ichigo didn’t know how to explain it.

After that night, he didn’t really want to come over anymore. He was kind of messed up over it. He didn’t know how Renji could have pranked him that hard. Had he really gotten so freaked out that he’d just had a bad dream? It had been so real, though.

Ichigo didn’t believe in ghosts at all, but he didn’t see what other explanation there was but some weird spooky shit happening - unless Renji really had gone that hardcore in pranking him, which didn’t seem likely.

He knew that just because something, good or bad, didn’t have an explanation didn’t mean it should be attributed to god or ghosts or angels or something, he knew that it was intellectually feeble to do something like that, no different from early people thinking eclipses meant the world was ending because they had no knowledge of science. At the same time, Ichigo was scared out of his wits and he needed an answer, he needed to tell himself _something,_ because the not knowing was much scarier.

Ichigo was sure that if Renji really was pranking him, that was his exact goal: to get him so scared that he would think for a second that there really were ghosts. Just the thought of it infuriated him. 

Even so, Ichigo didn’t sleep over for a while, that feeling of terror too fresh in his mind.

He was convinced, with great hesitation, to spend the night after nearly a month. Ichigo stayed close to Renji, watching him in suspicion, and go figure, not as much weird shit happened, probably because Renji couldn’t pull off his dumb ghost pranks with him scrutinizing his every move.

The only thing was the faulty switches. It felt like every time Ichigo flipped a lightswitch, he’d get zapped. It was starting to get really annoying, especially since it didn’t seem to bother Renji, if it happened to him at all.

Since Ichigo hadn’t been much in the mood for the past weeks, Renji tried his best to cuddle on him and get him upstairs. Warming up to it, Ichigo let Renji kiss him and take his clothes off. They made love in the late afternoon with the windows open and fell asleep around six.

That was one thing Ichigo was glad for - with Renji having his own place and all, that meant no more half-clothed, quiet, often unsatisfying quickies. It meant they didn’t have to get a hotel for the night to get some privacy, and even then they had to be somewhat quiet about it. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was Renji’s main motivation for buying the property, so he had somewhere to wear Ichigo down to the nerve and drag it out to the point where it was obscene.

Who's Ichigo to complain about that?

In any case, after they came upon the two hour mark, Ichigo was so exhausted and thoroughly spoiled that he managed to get a restless sleep, Renji’s warm firm body wrapped around his.

When he woke up from their nap, it was dark outside and he was alone in bed. Ichigo sat up and yawned, put his shirt and underwear on, and tried to turn on the light. He stood next to the door and flicked the switch once, twice, three times, but nothing happened.

“Shit,” he muttered, wandering out into the dark hallway, scratching his stomach and yawning.

“Renji?” he called, but didn’t hear a response. He went down the hall and walked around. The light was on in the bathroom, but Renji wasn’t there when he checked. “Renji,” he yawned again, wiping his eyes. He turned the corner to the stairway, figuring Renji might have gone down to get a snack.

Someone was crying.

Waking up in an instant, Ichigo looked around confusedly for the sound, and at the bottom of the stairs, for one heart-stopping moment, he was frozen still when his eyes caught this pale white figure standing there, glowing white even in the darkness.

It was so fast, his stomach swooping dread as it moved. It was like the instant he’d noticed it, its head turned around towards him, as if it had noticed him at the same time. A second later, it was gone, turning the corner into the downstairs hall.

Ichigo stared after it for a moment and then ran down the stairs, breath heavy, body shaking, his vision blurring from the force of his heartbeat. “Renji!” he called. “Renji!”

He turned the corner, but no one was there, and he found Renji in the kitchen under the bald lightbulb, standing there looking confused and blinking blearily.

“Renji,” he panted in relief, body sagging as he panted, every nerve tingling with adrenaline. “What are you doing out of bed?” he gasped.

Renji stared at him for a second, brow furrowing. “I thought I saw you get up,” he said, sleepy and bewildered. Ichigo refused to think about those words and what they meant too hard.

“What, are you a sleepwalker now or something?” he muttered. “Come back to bed,” he said, his head still buzzing with panic.

Renji let Ichigo take his hand and lead him out of the kitchen and back upstairs. He stumbled along after him, half-awake and dazed. “No, but… you got out of bed, and I followed you.”

“You were dreaming,” he denied.

Ichigo held Renji, eyes open, the door to their room shut. He tried to slow his breathing so he could go back to sleep, but he found he couldn’t, even with Renji all warm and sleep-soft in his arms, his heavy body a soothing weight on Ichigo’s chest.

What the fuck had he seen just then? And the crying too, what about that? Maybe the first time had been a dream, but that hadn’t. There was no way. He didn’t believe in ghosts, and he didn't want to accept that whatever he'd seen... whatever a ghost was supposed to look like, that had been it.

Ichigo just couldn’t explain it.

“Ichigo,” Renji whispered against his neck, breath slow and comforting.

“Hm.”

“You know I love you,” he breathed, arms around Ichigo, warm and secure, his thumb stroking Ichigo’s shoulder lovingly.

Ichigo turned his face down, chin brushing his chest, his nose against Renji’s forehead. He pet Renji’s hair a little, rearranging some of the crazier strands. “Yeah.”

“A real lot.”

“Me too.”

“Just…” Renji was quiet for a few breaths, hot puffs fogging against Ichigo’s neck and chin. “Sometimes I feel like you don’t know that.” Ichigo held him tighter for a second, eyes flicking over the dark ceiling, the cracked plaster around the mounted fan. “An’ I wanna’ tell you, you’re like…” Renji didn’t finish.

“Like what?” he prompted.

“Like,” Renji rambled, “I dunno’ how to explain it. It’s like there’s no one out there who’s like you.” Thumb tracing Ichigo’s shoulder, Renji murmured, “Couldn’t replace you, Ichigo.”

Ichigo felt both pained and touched, head nestled on top of Renji’s. After a few moments not knowing how to respond, vulnerably, he whispered back, “You mean it? . . .” but Renji was asleep.

And Ichigo held onto him, and while Renji’s arms were around him, they were lax and heavy with sleep, and didn’t hold him back.

There was the whatever.  

Maybe that was it.


	5. Chapter 5

After seeing whatever he’d seen, Ichigo just felt constantly uneasy at Renji’s house, and stopped visiting almost all together. Renji started wondering why his baby didn’t wanna’ come over to his place, but Ichigo rebuffed him, because he was becoming more and more convinced with each incident that there was a ghost or _something_ there that had it out for him.

Seeing that person in the halls, it had chased away the last bits of skepticism that maybe Renji had paid one of their friends to come over and fuck around to try to scare him. He didn’t like to think about why that wasn’t a possibility, because it brought back the sight of the thing’s _face_ in his head and the sharp dip of horror in his gut that had accompanied it.

Ichigo didn’t want to go back there.

That afternoon they met at a cafe and Ichigo could see Renji itching and fidgeting, because Ichigo wouldn’t go over to his house and that meant they couldn’t cuddle or kiss or do any of the things they did in the privacy of Renji’s house. Renji had to satisfy himself with holding Ichigo’s hand today.

To tell the truth, Ichigo'd been feeling kind of bleak and down in the dumps over the state of their relationship, and it gave him some sense of satisfaction that Renji got lonely for him if he wasn’t around. Maybe that made him a bad person, but it made him feel good to know he was missed - by Renji at least.

He tried to coax Ichigo again to come back to his house, plying him with the sad eyes, but Ichigo shook his head in a firm no and refused to explain why. He felt like he had to eat crow a little bit if he admitted that he was so freaked out that he thought Renji’s house might really be haunted. After taking such a strong position on not believing in ghosts until this point, he didn’t want to admit aloud that he was having second thoughts.

“C’mon, babe,” Renji pleaded miserably, playing with Ichigo’s fingers while he sipped his coffee with an flatly unamused expression. “You livin’ at your parent’s place…? I mean, I got a house all to myself, don’t you wanna’ take advantage of the opportunity?”

Not in the mood for melodrama, Ichigo shot his eyes to the ceiling and flicked his hand out of Renji’s, brushing him off. “Uhhh, we took advantage of it plenty.”

“We can do it whenever we want,” Renji insisted, fidgeting even more wildly when he tried to take Ichigo’s hand again but was denied when he folded his arms stubbornly. “Privacy, all that space…”

“Bunch a’ empty rooms,” he shot down flatly.

“Lotta’ room for little feet, y’know, a pet,” Renji amended when Ichigo raised his eyebrows. Was he joking around? “We could make that place beautiful. It can be our home.” Ichigo stared at him for a second and Renji succeeded in taking and holding his hand.

 _'Ugh.’_ Ichigo set his drink down and put his head in his hand. _‘Please don’t do this now.’_

“I guess I thought you’d figure it out on your own, but…” Renji squirmed uncomfortably, glancing to Ichigo’s eyes every so often, tentatively. “I thought you’d… you know…”

Ichigo was silent, looking at him in a deadpan. Maybe he was a dick to try and make this harder for Renji on purpose, but he just wasn’t in the mood for this now. Renji’d had so long, he’d had months - any other time, Ichigo would have been happy to hear this, but he had to go and do it now that Ichigo didn't want to be anywhere near his house.

Renji cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was planning to say this later on, but…” He sighed. “Look, I want you to move in with me, Ichigo.” Looking into Ichigo’s face, Renji told him, “I love you.” Ichigo sighed through his nose, looking away. Seeing that he was losing him, Renji squeezed his hand and jumped to say, “I know this is a big change, but I wanna’ take that step. Move in with me. Please.”

“I’m not gonna’ live with you in those spooky-ass digs,” Ichigo refused flatly.

“Aw babe, why not?” Renji muttered plaintively.

“The place is fucking haunted,” he shot back, raising his voice. “It’s creepy.” Renji frowned sadly, incredulous.

“Ichigo, you don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Yeah well,” he muttered. “It is.”

“Aw c’mon Ichigo, please,” Renji pleaded quietly, giving him the puppy eyes. Ichigo turned his nose up, looking away. It’s not gonna’ work on him this time. Glancing around, Renji told him, “I miss you at night,” under his breath.

Ichigo stared at him for a second, pursing his lips to the side, and at last said, “Dude, that’s so gay.”

“You know what else is gay?” Renji replied.

“What.”

“This.” Ichigo didn’t expect it, so he didn’t jump back in time to escape Renji grabbing his head and pulling him in over the table, giving him an unnecessarily gross kiss.

“Ack! Okay, stop!” Ichigo yelped, pressing his lips together and screwing his eyes up. “Uch! Your spit!” he complained.

“Mwah!” Renji released him, letting Ichigo fall back into his chair and wipe his face with his sleeves and some napkins. He smugly watched as Ichigo panted and scowled.

“You disgust me,” he said at last, which drew a laugh from Renji.

“Really though, Ichigo,” he said more sincerely, smile still on his face. “I know I’ve been kind of dragging my feet, and well… I wanna’ get serious.”

Ichigo looked up at him, finding Renji smiling warmly. “You do?” he said blankly, feeling his heart swell.

“Yeah.” Renji put his hand over his, crumpled spit-napkins and all. "Sorry it's taken me so long to say so."

Ichigo didn’t know what to say for a time, beside himself. Renji seemed to be waiting for his answer with bated breath. “Well…”

“. . .”

Ichigo narrowed his eyebrows and teased, “You’re not just saying this so you can get ass twenty-four-seven, are you?”

Dismayed, Renji rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, if you wanted your own room, there’s enough space…”

“I’m kidding.” Ichigo couldn’t help but smile when Renji’s eyes lit up.

“So you will? You’ll come live with me?” he said excitedly. Ichigo grimaced, squirming a little.

“Are you sure we can’t just start out with an apartment?” he wondered hesitantly, knowing he was being unreasonable.

“But I got us a _house!”_ Renji implored, “I picked it out special ‘cause a' how you love the woods and shit!” Renji shut up really quick after that, obviously not having meant to say that out loud. Ichigo looked down, feeling absolutely touched. He hadn’t put it together that Renji had really planned the whole thing out, wanting to finally take the step to commit to the long-term.

Fuck, how could he say no? This was what he’d been waiting for, what he’d thought would never come, this was the moment when the indifferent 'whatever' was replaced by the emotion of _something._ Ichigo felt fucking swept off his feet.  But… _but_.

Damnit, he just didn’t think he could live in that place.

Ichigo put a hand to his forehead and sighed, thinking of that white figure he’d seen again, the terrifying moment of seeing it turn, stare at him for a beat, and then run. Honestly, it made him think of Hide-and-seek Alone, because he could swear that the person’s face…

It had looked like his own. 

“I dunno’, it just freaks me out,” he muttered in weak protest, sighing, hand to his forehead.

As if knowing he’d already won, although Renji comforted him with some concern, he couldn’t get rid of the smile on his face or his beaming eyes. “It’s okay, Ichiban, it’ll feel like home soon. We can fix it up real pretty.”

Ichigo grimaced uneasily, but eventually sighed and nodded in agreement, sipping his coffee through a straw and considering. “Hm,” he said at last. “Alright, well I’ve gotta’ tell my family though. You gonna’ come?”

“They already know we’re together though,” Renji muttered with a frown. See, there you go. That’s exactly how Ichigo felt. That’s why they understood each other - they think the same way.

“Well, they _know,_ but I like, never came out or whatever,” Ichigo mumbled with a shrug. “I just kinda’ didn’t really bother hiding.”

“How come you never invite me over ta’ see’um anymore? You know I love your family, right?”

“I just asked if you wanted to come,” Ichigo deflected.

“Do you want me to?” Renji wondered with his brow furrowed. “It doesn’t sound like you want me to.”

“I just don’t see the point when we can hang out by ourselves.” Ichigo didn’t look at him, looking out the cafe window instead.

“Don’t the girls ask about me?”

“I guess, sometimes.”

Renji, who’d already been opening his notepad on his phone to their home improvement list to add to it, looked up with a confused frown. “So wait, if they know, why do you still need to come out?”

“My dad.” Renji hummed in response, nodding. “He knows, but he still just kinda’ ignores it at all costs,” Ichigo sighed, leaning back in his swivel chair and twisting from side to side a little. “It’s better not to mess with it, but I guess I have to if we’re really gonna’ do this.”

“Oh.” Renji looked up uncomfortably, but Ichigo waved it off. There was no point making him come. He knew his sisters wanted to ‘meet the boyfriend,’ but life wasn’t a movie, and they don’t need to do the whole ‘invite him over to dinner with the parents’ thing.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay,” Renji agreed. “I’ll call someone to come out and look at the wiring,” he muttered, half to himself.

“Fine,” he said, but he knew it was a waste of money. Nothing was wrong with the wiring. It was something else.

"Shit, I can't believe you're moving in," Renji gushed repeatedly over the rest of the day, affectionate and excited, and Ichigo offered a hesitant half-smile each time. 

As excited as he was that the days of just spending the night were over, as happy as he is that Renji wanted them to have the same home, Ichigo still felt a bit uneasy. But, at least for now, a vague feeling of being creeped out was worth taking the whatever out of his life.


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh, I just died in your arms tonight, it must’ve been something you said._

_I should’ve walked away, I should’ve walked away._

_. . ._

 

Ichigo moved in with little incident, and for the next few weeks, all supernatural happenings were at a standstill, as if to taunt Ichigo and make him doubt his own sanity. If he hadn't already concluded that it couldn't have been Renji screwing around, he might have gone back to the idea that Renji had just been pranking him and had ceased momentarily to convince him to stay, now that he'd moved in. 

However, the fact that everything was normal didn't make it seem any less _eerily_ normal. Every time the hairs rose at the back of his neck and he turned to find nothing there, every time he flinched reflexively after turning a lightswitch, every long night spent listening to the house creak as he tried to fall asleep, he began to feel more and more silly for being so jumpy.

Everything was completely ordinary.

In time he began to forget about what he’d seen - or thought he’d seen. Maybe he really had just gotten paranoid like Renji had said. Of course there was no such thing as ghosts.

Ichigo came to like it. The house was sunny and sweet-smelling with the summer breeze blowing through the opened windows. He and Renji cleaned out the dusty rooms together, taking out the old furniture that remained and putting it in the front yard to be moved into storage until it could be sold or donated.

It’d been fun actually, making the place into their new home. They’d picked out colors to repaint the walls, ordered easy-to-make furniture, and looked up do-it-yourself repairs online daily. They played in the backyard and napped in the sun together. Once they got everything situated, they were thinking of adopting a cat.

He’d told his sisters where he was, and most of his stuff was either at Renji’s house or in boxes at home, but he was still putting off talking to his dad about it, even though he knew that his sisters had probably told him. There never seemed to be a good time, and honestly, Ichigo didn’t see the point. What would it do other than cause a fight or an unnecessary emotional display?

One night, after a long day, he and Renji rewarded themselves for their hard work by lazing around on the couch together, watching kaiju films. At some point, they must have fallen asleep, because when Ichigo next opened his eyes, Renji’s cushy pectorals pillowing his head, he saw that the television was still on, but was playing snow.

He shut his eyes in annoyance. Now the TV was busted too? Sure, it was a piece of junk, but it was Renji’s, and he loved that old thing, so Ichigo never said shit about it. Dang, Renji was going to be sad when he saw this.

Ichigo opened an eye when the channels suddenly began flicking at random. For a second he thought one of them must be lying on the remote. . .  but no, there it was, on the floor.

He glared at the TV. _‘Damn faulty wiring,’_ he thought vaguely even though he knew that would probably mean the TV would turn on and off, not change channels.

As the channels flicked through, Ichigo watched with a frown as in tandem, as if in a natural sentence, one newscaster said, _‘At that time, the perpetrator-’_

The channel changed, and a kid from a sitcom said, _‘she just got up-’_

_‘He’s gone, he went-’_

_‘Upstairs and then-’_

The TV got stuck on a cooking show on a shot of a guy chopping the head off a tuna. Lovely. Okay, that had all been kinda' freaky. A few months ago, he might have pinned the _message_ on coincidence with no trace of doubt, but now Ichigo felt uneasy, staring at the screen for a long time, but nothing else happened besides the tuna being filleted and descaled.

He took himself out from under Renji’s heavy warm arm and got up, walked out of the room, and lingered in the doorway. He didn’t know what he was doing, acting like a fool in the dark, didn’t know what he wanted to happen. He and Renji have watched enough hokey horror flicks to know that acting dumb in a spooky old house just made you a jackass that would end up dying pointlessly, but creeped out as he was, he peeked around the corner of the doorway, and when he saw nothing, walked out into the hall.

Ichigo stood still and looked down to the end, waiting, and when his heartbeat quieted, he heard it again, the same sound from a month ago.

Someone was crying upstairs.

The last time he’d heard it, he’d thought for a second that Renji was the one crying but there was no way this time with him zonked out behind him on the couch.

Listening to the noise for a few seconds, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. At first Ichigo thought to ignore it and tiptoe back to Renji, his gut squirming with nerves and uneasiness, but he couldn’t help but feel curious. This kind of thing hadn’t happened in weeks. He’d started to think he’d imagined it all. He felt this spiteful, maybe reckless need to prove to himself once and for all whether ghosts were real or not.

Ichigo slowly made his way to the staircase, looking up at the top almost expectantly. He stood at the bottom, fidgeting anxiously, twice almost turning back, but eventually began to climb, as quiet as a mouse. He took only a few steps at a time, with great caution, stopping every so often to listen and gather his courage again. When he at last came to the top, he looked down the hallway, and even though he was anticipating it, he still felt that horrible jolt when he caught sight of the white figure at the other end of the hall. He stared for a full second or two, not even breathing, trying to get a sense of what he was looking at.

It didn’t move immediately this time, just standing there for a few long moments, and when Ichigo at last took a shaky breath, he promptly jumped out of his skin when its head snapped around and it suddenly began moving down the hall towards him, _fast._

Ichigo didn’t think other than a blind panic and took off in the other direction, breathing hard and shutting himself in Renji’s room. There wasn’t a bolt or any big piece of furniture to lock the door with, and instead of throwing his weight on the door to hold it shut, too scared to think to do that, Ichigo backed up towards the far wall, feeling cornered. He looked around for something to use as a weapon, even though what the fuck would even work on a ghost?!

He could hear the footsteps coming, and he coiled himself up tight in anticipation as the door handle turned, frozen in place by overpowering dread. When the door opened, Renji came through. Ichigo’s shoulders fell as he gaped breathlessly.

“There you are,” he said sleepily. “You should’ve woken me up.”

By that point, he was pretty much convinced that Renji wasn’t fucking with him. His boyfriend could be a bullshit artist, but he wasn't that good.

Ichigo didn’t go to the bathroom that night no matter how bad he had to go, not wanting to go alone, and too prideful to go through the shame of asking Renji to come with him.

The following day, the two of them enjoyed the nice weather by lounging around in the yard, sipping lemonades and sitting at the rusty patio table. Squirming uncomfortably, Ichigo at last muttered, trying to sound offhand, “Renji, did you find anything out about the property when you got it?”

Renji was reading a magazine, the wind blowing through his hair, his feet up on Ichigo’s lap under the table. Ichigo had to look at him for a few moments, just _look_ at him, and try not to give this soft smile. Other than the ghost shit and the constant pit of danger and unease in his gut, Ichigo’s life has been great lately. Renji has been an absolute sweetheart to him in the past weeks, openly grateful that he got to be with him every day.

He’d toned down the craziness and had been really loving since he’d moved in, attached at the hip and in a really good mood. In other words, he hasn’t been picking at him or teasing him as much lately, too lovey to find the energy to act like a little shit.

“Hm?” Renji wondered, looking up, “Whatcha’ mean?”

“Like… any weird stuff…” Ichigo pulled on the hair at the back of his neck. He knew he should just quit fidgeting and act casual so Renji wouldn’t see that he was bothered, but he couldn’t help it.

“Uhh, the old owner used to collect encyclopedias,” Renji remembered after a thoughtful frown. Ichigo squirmed a little more.

“No, I mean like… did someone die here,” he clarified, “That kind of thing.” Renji frowned more, eyebrows pushed together.

“I dunno’, babe, maybe,” he said, as if he was trying to figure out why Ichigo would ask such a weird thing.

“Okay well, can you find out about it or something?” Looking at him more directly, Renji pursed his lips together, a knowing look coming over his face suddenly. Ichigo sighed, rolling his eyes. Shit, he’s been caught.

“Wait… Is this still about that ghost thing?” Renji pinpointed with a tone that was just close enough to scolding that Ichigo felt ashamed.

Tightlipped, Ichigo didn’t reply, refusing to look at him. “. . .”

“. . .” Equally stubborn, Renji just stared back at him until at last he broke, groaning in annoyance.

“You haven’t played Hide-and-seek Alone here and not told me, have you?” Ichigo mumbled, picking at a rusty flake of paint on the tabletop. It was the only thing that might make some sort of sense, if Ichigo believed that game were real, which he didn’t - but who knew anymore. It would explain the white-face that looked eerily like some sort of mirror image of himself, but then, if Renji had played, wouldn’t it look like Renji?

“What? No,” Renji said incredulously, which just made Ichigo more embarrassed. “I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”

“...” Ichigo pulled on his ear and stared at his glass of lemonade, downcast. Renji tried to duck and meet his eyes.

“You still scared?” he asked quietly.

“Fuck off, I’m not scared!” Ichigo snapped, crossing his arms in a sulk. “Whatever, I’ll look it up myself,” he growled as he began to blush, humiliated.

“I mean, I will if it’ll make you feel better,” Renji said with a frown, as if he felt bad about it - which in fact, just made Ichigo feel worse that Renji was worried about him even though he knew Renji thought he was being silly, getting spooked over nothing.

If Ichigo had ever entertained the thought of sharing with Renji what he thought was happening, he knew now that he couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him he’d seen a ghost or that his house was being haunted or whatever. Renji clearly thought he’d spooked himself over nothing, and Renji had such a big heart that even if he didn’t believe Ichigo, he’d still want to make him feel safe. Ichigo didn’t think he could bear the shame of Renji thinking of him like that, a pathetic coward who was scared of an old creaky house.

“No, forget it,” he said flatly, looking away. Renji was quiet for a few moments.

“Okay,” he said at last. “If you’re sure.” Ichigo sighed in relief when Renji picked up on the unspoken cue to let the matter drop, and changed the subject. “You look really pretty out here,” he said, getting all spoony.

“Pretty, huh?” Ichigo muttered, raising an eyebrow and sipping his drink.

“Yeah, your hair’s golden in the sun.” Renji put his chin on his fist and looked at him, just looked at him, smiling broadly.

“No, I mean, you used to think I was hot.” Renji snorted, tilting his head.

“What, did you like that one better?” he wondered curiously. Ichigo gave a half-smile when Renji started playing with his fingers.

“It’s just different,” he said.

“Good different?” He met Renji's eyes for a second.

Ever since the whatever had changed, things had been very very different, but good, good beyond his wildest dreams.

Ichigo shrugged lazily. He curled his finger in a ‘come here’ gesture, and Renji leaned in over the table and kissed him. “Hm,” he sighed, the wind blowing Renji’s hair around their faces gently.

“Do you think we can hang a hammock up out here?” Ichigo wondered, looking around the sunny yard. Renji stared at him silently for a few second, his eyes large and adoring.

“Bro,” he whispered. “Yes.”

Ichigo broke into uncontrollable laughter. “Did you just cum or something?!”

“NO! Gaah, I just love you! You’re great!” Renji grabbed him by the arms and shook him around, and when Ichigo shoved him back, it devolved quickly into wrestling in the sunny grass.

Renji, the big sweetie, did end up talking to the previous owner anyways despite Ichigo’s protests that afternoon. Knowing Ichigo would refuse the information if he brought it up in conversation again, he instead left Ichigo their contact info and a note telling him that the house had been owned by this one family for a long time before changing hands and being sold to the person who’d sold it to Renji.

Ichigo scowled, feeling embarrassed all over again that Renji had gone to the trouble just to try and make him less scared, but all the same, he used the contact information to try and do some late night internet research.

He didn’t find anything very interesting, just old people who’d bit it after owning the home a long time. Renji was right about it having been owned by the same family for ages and then suddenly being sold off. After a few hours, Ichigo found an archive of the old local paper, using the find tool to locate all instances of the family’s last name. He found a mention of some births, some school awards, and a mention of the death of a young man who’d lived in this home with his family. He’d died of consumption - Ichigo thought that meant tuberculosis.

Having found at least three given names to go with the family name, he at last turned up some old photographs, and a family picture. There was a father and mother, three grandparents, and a little girl - and a young man with a cat in his arms.

Ichigo stared at the photo for a long time, at the guy’s face, a chill running up his spine.

He closed the page and then shut his laptop. He decided not to tell Renji what he’d found, more disturbed and uneasy than ever.

He was able to get some sleep that night after a long time, eventually putting the photo out of his mind. The name didn’t go away though, and thinking back on the white face he kept seeing around, it made him shiver a little.

The kid’s name had been Shiro.


	7. Chapter 7

_I died in your your arms tonight,_

_I slipped through into the afterlife, it was nice._

_. . ._

 

Ichigo didn’t catch sight of Shiro again for a while.

It was strange the way the human mind worked, the way nothing was more frightening than the unknown. Before he’d been practically peeing his pants over this whole ghost thing, not believing his own eyes, unable to understand what was going on, but now, it seemed different. He didn’t know why, but it was.

Now that he could put a name and a story to the face, he felt kind of sad for the guy actually. Ichigo almost felt endeared to him even, poor kid dying of consumption. Shiro looked like he’d been around Ichigo’s age when he’d passed. He couldn’t imagine getting that sick and dying suddenly at his age.

If that was really Shiro hanging around, upset about dying, the unfairness of it, Ichigo felt for the guy, he really did. In fact, he felt bad for being so spooked in the first place.

He didn’t see Shiro again, but weird things did started happening again, and now Ichigo wasn’t quite so scared or surprised anymore. When the lights acted up, flicking on and off repeatedly when he was trying to read, or doors slammed when he cooked or used the bathroom, Ichigo just kind of noted it, accepted it, and moved on. It wasn’t that hard to pretend to himself that there was just another person there in the room, screwing around. He would just look over at the noise mildly and keep doing what he was doing - it felt like he was hanging out with the ghost or whatever.

Ichigo felt a kind of kinship with this Shiro guy, the boy who’d lived decades ago with the same face as his. It was peaceful almost, comforting even, to imagine that after he died, he wouldn’t just disappear forever like a snuffed-out candle. That’s what he’d always thought about the world, but it could be scary sometimes, to think about just how dying meant you just stopped existing - _forever._

Ichigo still thought most shows about ghosts and ghost legends were bullshit, and that people who said they’d seen ghosts were lying either to others or to themselves, or perhaps had gotten so scared or griefstricken that they'd thought they'd seen something - Ichigo still thought all of that wasn't real, but... Shiro was just kind of... _there_.

 _‘Maybe, oh, I dunno’,’_ he thought, when Shiro started fucking with the lights again, _‘maybe he got bored or something.’_

“I’m trying to read,” he muttered, and to his amazement, the rythmic _on-off on-off_ ceased after a final sassy _flick-flick-flick_ of the switch, rapidly flickering the light and then leaving it alone.

Ichigo looked upwards, biting his lip to hold back a smile, and sunk into the couch a little, going on with his book. _‘Brat.’_

Ichigo wasn’t sure of course, but maybe he and Renji had moved in and Shiro had seen him, how similar they looked, and had gotten curious. Maybe he had been trying to communicate or something, and just fucked around with the doors and shit for attention. The crying and the creepy lurking in the hallway was kind of terrifying, but Ichigo felt like he understood a little better now. It hadn’t happened since he’d found that photo anyways. He knew better now not to go looking around at nighttime, and just kept to Renji’s room, ignoring any weird sounds from downstairs.

Ichigo was no expert, but it felt like he and Shiro had reached a sort of peace together - at least, whatever had been creeping him out about the ghost before, it wasn’t there so much now. It felt benign.

All that changed though, rather suddenly.

Friday around noon, after finishing with grouting the tile in the downstairs bathroom, Renji came to take a break and eat the lunch Ichigo had made them. Taking two big bites of his rice and chewing happily, Renji then said with enthusiasm, “Babe, let’s go out tonight.” Ichigo looked up, eating slowlier while he fucked around on his laptop trying to learn how to repair cracked drywall so that he and Renji could try and fix the uglier cracks before painting the walls new.

“It’s gay night at the Club Metro.”

“That sounds pretty crazy,” Ichigo said with a twist to his mouth. Renji, cheeks stuffed full, had to eat a couple seconds and then swallow.

“. . . What does that even mean?”

“It means let’s fucking do it.”

“Yes!” Renji crowed, holding his bowl close to his face and scooping up the rest of his food. “Mm-mm-mm,” he hummed appreciatively and pecked Ichigo on the cheek as he walked by and put his bowl in the sink and rinsed it out real quick.

“Wait though,” Ichigo muttered, leaning on the back two legs of his chair when Renji made to leave the kitchen. That halted him, and he stuck his head around the doorway. “Exactly how gay are you gonna’ get tonight?”

“Pretty gay.”

Ichigo grimaced. “You’re not gonna’ take your shirt off this time, are you?”

“If I get too hot, then yeah,” Renji replied flippantly. Ichigo threw his head back with a groan.

“Ugh, you’re so trashy.”

“Whatever man, just accept it,” Renji teased.

"Alright," Ichigo conceded with a hesitant grumble, "but don't get on the pole at least."

"Are you gonna' dance with me though?"

"Yeah."

"Okay deal."

They had a fun time. They got dressed all nice and went out after ten. The bass was turned up so high in the club that it didn’t just make Ichigo’s ribs vibrate, he could feel it in his throat too. He and Renji danced and drank and sang in each other’s faces and had stupid fun until most people had gone home and Renji had emptied his pockets throwing coins at the dudes who pulled themselves up on stage and fooled around drunkenly on the stripper poles.

When they got outside at last, Ichigo felt like his ears were stuffed with cotton and he was so horny that he felt like a dog ready to hump a fucking couch. As the both of them had drank more and more, Renji had gone from just dancing to feeling him up and shamelessly grinding against him. It was alright in the dark to a point, but now that they were out on the street, Ichigo stood in front of his boyfriend, who was too plastered to be ashamed of a public hard-on.

“Dude, I am so drunk,” Renji slurred, still kind of bopping around to the music, which was loud enough to be heard even from the sidewalk where they stood. “Ichigo, I am so fucking drunk right now, call a cab.”

“Why’re you still dancing? Renji... Renji, you sure you don’t wanna’ go back in? I could keep going,” Ichigo said, hiccuping unexpectedly and clapping a hand to his mouth. Shit, he’d thrown up in his mouth a little.

“Naw,” Renji panted, taking a step forward and ending up all over him.

“Whoa man, why are you in my face? Can you like, get offa' me? Get off.”

Ichigo tried to shove him back, but they both ended up staggering and grabbing each other again. “Hi,” Renji said, nose to nose with him. “Let’s go back,” he murmured against Ichigo’s face, his hands around Ichigo’s back, “an’ party me an’ you.”

That shouldn’t be hot. That should be stupid.

The ride back in the dark was so long that they both fell asleep, but when they got dropped off at home, after taking a long piss and drinking some water, they started fucking around again, still pretty drunk. They practically fell up the stairs on the way to Renji’s room, and then _did_ fall into bed. Renji came down on top of him like a ton of bricks. “Oof!” he coughed, giving a pained laugh as Renji said sorry, the clumsy-ass.

“Mm, I love you,” Renji crooned, kissing him, slow and stupid and sweet, “Ichigo, I love you.”

“Yeah,” he gasped, head still spinning with the alcohol as they undressed only to the point of getting the shirts and pants off, pathetic and tangled up in the sleeves for a ridiculous amount of time. Renji fell into his arms at last, fitting his hips between Ichigo’s legs, grinding his erection on Ichigo’s backside, giving one or two needy thrusts.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing and sucking on Ichigo’s ear, holding their faces together. This was all very enjoyable, especially since they finally succeeded in taking their underwears off not long after.

Arms around Renji’s shoulders, Ichigo tilted his head to the side, humming and gasping, eyes slipping closed as Renji licked and nipped at his neck, rolling their hips together firmly, squeezing their cocks between their stomachs.

All of a sudden, Ichigo opened his eyes uneasily, looking around the dark ceiling, a sudden feeling coming over him. He knew it was stupid to think about when they’re making love and maybe he was kind of drunk, but he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching, and he _knew_ that feeling, because it’s happened a lot in the past days whenever Shiro was messing with him.

Shiro was in here, wasn’t he. The mere thought made him feel a little embarrassed and stupid. What, he was being peeped on by a ghost?

Ichigo’s cheeks burned with shame when Renji turned him over and slapped both hands to his rear and pried him apart, shoving his face between. He bit back his moans and put his red face into the mattress, the pleasure of Renji’s warm mouth and squeezing hands combined with the humiliating sensation that someone else could see him, was _watching them._

Logically, he knew nothing was there, that the only two people here were him and Renji, but all the same when Renji fit their bodies together, braced above him as he slowly penetrated him, Ichigo held his legs back and glanced around the ceiling distractedly, tugging on the blanket until Renji pulled it up over them. After that, he felt better, and he forgot about it, making love with Renji, moaning and sweating until they fell asleep together.

 

           Ichigo didn’t usually remember his dreams, but that night felt weird, as though he were awake. His thoughts felt very structured and natural. He looked around him, and it occurred to him to look down at his own body, his hands. It was him.

He was in the house, at the top of the staircase. Shiro was there too, down at the bottom, standing on the uncarpeted boards of the hallway. Ichigo smiled when he saw him, and walked down the steps to him, but the more he went down, he began to frown when he saw the steps just kept going and going and he never made any progress. Shiro didn’t climb up to meet him, just standing down there and staring at him.

“Hey,” he muttered, discouraged, and found himself a moment later in the basement, or well, what he knew to be the basement. The basement of Renji’s home was little more than a dank concrete room, which looked nothing like the room he and Shiro were in now. Somehow, he still could _feel_ that this was the basement, despite it being painted yellow and furnished with a single chair, big and wooden. Ichigo recognized it as one he and Renji had moved out, but they’d found it in the back of the utility closet behind the boiler, not in the basement.

“You’re Shiro,” he said, looking back at the boy, not pale white and ghostly like he’d seen him in the waking world, but black and white like he’d seen him in the old photograph.

Ichigo felt friendly towards him, and smiled again, but the calm pleasant feeling of the dream disappeared in an instant, replaced by dread when Shiro’s face creased in a ghastly frown, his mouth contorting into an inhuman snarl of sharp teeth and blue gums.

Ichigo took a step back in alarm, falling sharply into the chair, and at once, he could not lift his arms or legs, held still as though by ropes.

“I’m gonna’ make you pay.” At first, Ichigo made to feel at his throat, but could not, his hand lying motionless no matter how hard he tugged. Had that been him? Had he said that?

He looked up to Shiro and realized no, it had not been him. Ichigo shook his head wildly as Shiro took a menacing step for him, eyes darkening to black pits and skin draining of the photograph grey to a glowing ghostly white. “What? No. Pay for what.”

Shiro leaned into his face, that vicious snarl growing even more frightening when an animalistic growl loosed from the back of his throat. The hairs on Ichigo’s neck tingled and he gulped hard when Shiro’s white hand took a handful of his hair, painfully tight, and snapped his head back. “You’re gonna’ taunt me like this?” he snapped in Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo thought wildly, not understanding. He hadn’t ever hurt the ghost, had he? All that time he hadn’t liked him before, he’d just been afraid, but he’d never done anything cruel, had he? Nothing that might make him angry? He'd thought lately, that they'd been on good terms even!

“I’ll make you pay,” Shiro hissed, black eyes burning into Ichigo’s. “I’ll hurt you for this.”

The lights went off and Ichigo was left in darkness. Terrified, he squirmed and panted fast, looking around. Was he alone?

“Taunt you how?” he cried, but nothing else happened, and he stayed in that horrible eerily silent blackness with a sense of being constantly on the edge of death, until the dream faded out.

 

. . .

 

_I cry hard in the afterlife._

_I_ _cry hard because I have died and you’re alive._


	8. Chapter 8

Ichigo didn’t know why, but when he woke up the next morning, everything was different.

He wasn't a person who remembered every detail of his dreams with crisp clarity, but last night's terrifying stay in that basement room in pitch darkness and dead silence,  _alone,_ for  _hours,_ he remembered it starkly. He'd thought he would go insane in that nothingness, trapped in the dark all by himself. Unfortunately, waking life, besides having Renji at his side as a comfort, was not much better.

Things had taken a dark turn.

The air felt heavy and cold even though it was the blazing heat of July, and this sense of dread followed him everywhere, from room to room, hour to hour. He spent a lot of time out in the yard to try and get his breath, and went for a walk with Renji when even that didn’t help. When he got far enough away from the house, he felt much better, like a weight was taken off his chest.

He couldn’t explain it to Renji, but he felt uneasy, like something bad was about to happen.

By nightfall, the hauntings Ichigo had been experiencing as part of his daily life in the previous weeks turned suddenly and inexplicably malicious. The peaceful presence from the day before felt dark and openly hostile.

Sudden drafts would loudly slam doors when he walked past, light switches and outlets and appliances would short and shock him when he touched them, visibly sparking. A heavy book practically hurled itself off a shelf, narrowly missing his head.

It was mad. Ichigo didn’t know what he’d done to provoke it, but it was mad.

Even Renji noticed it after a few hours of the madness, when Ichigo forgot yet again and turned off the kitchen light upon leaving the room and was shocked so badly that he yelped aloud.

“Dang babe, you’ve been having some bad luck tonight,” Renji hummed in sympathy, petting down Ichigo’s staticky hair as they came back to the living room to finish watching Rogue Star Gorath. “Are you okay?”

Ichigo shook his hand around, his nerves burning. Shit, his teeth were all tingly from that one. “Yeah,” he said, “I just-” The both of them startled, ducking and throwing their arms up to their faces when a lightbulb exploded in a lamp next to Ichigo’s head.

He hissed in pain, clutching his arm to his chest and staying curled up in a ball, squatting on the floor for a few seconds with his head down to make sure that it was over. Peeking his eyes open to look at where he’d felt some pain on his forearm, he saw that he'd gotten cut a little bit, and was bleeding, drops of blood welling up and spilling down his arm. 

Renji toed carefully over the glass towards him. “Shit, are you okay?” he wondered in a concerned hush, taking his bleeding arm in his hands. “What the fuck was that?!” he hollered, glaring at the lamp.

Ichigo still couldn’t bring himself to say it was the ghost, and was silent and stoney-faced as Renji picked him up in a piggyback to carry him over the glass, which had burst and scattered all over the room. He sat quietly as Renji washed his cut and bandaged him and made him sit on the couch while he vacuumed up the glass from every corner.

Renji inspected the socket with scrutiny, frowning darkly at it like it was to blame. Ichigo rolled up under a blanket and watched Rogue Star Gorath alone even though it wasn’t as fun alone. The cut wasn’t so bad as to need stitches, but the thought of why he’d gotten it . . .

When Renji at last came to sit by him on the sofa and rubbed a warm sympathetic hand over the side of his leg, it was half past one in the morning. Ichigo sat up and mumbled, “Renji, I wanna’ go home.”

He could see Renji’s face drop, because this was supposed to be his home now, but Ichigo didn’t care. He just wanted to get out of this madhouse.

“What?” Renji protested, aghast, as if Ichigo wanting to leave was a personal failing on his part. “But it’s so late. It’s past the last train.”

“Whatever, I don’t wanna’ sleep here. I’m getting a hotel,” he muttered, standing up.

"You'll never get a taxi to come out here!"

“I’ll walk."

“Ichigo, c’mon, no, it’s too late,” Renji pleaded, taking his arm, following him when Ichigo pulled away.

“I’ll sleep in the yard then, but I’m not sleeping here,” he refused. There was no fucking way he was spending the night. He’d pissed off the ghost, and Ichigo knows how this movie ends.

“You don’t think, whatever that was, that it’s to do with whatever thing you think is haunting the place,” Renji said suddenly with a skeptical crease to his brow, as if to say ‘c’mon Ichigo, really?’

Ichigo’d just about had it then, and the eerie fragile calm he'd maintained today while being physically attacked was out the window. He went from a two to a ten in a second flat. “You think I’m a dumbass?! Am I a baby?! Am I a _fucking baby,_ Renji?!” he hollered, “You’re the one who believed in ghosts in the first place, so don’t talk to me like I’m fucking stupid!”

Holding up his hands in surrender, Renji didn’t escalate things, not matching his volume or emotion and saying calmly, “I’m not trying to fight, Ichigo.”

“Well I’m tryin’a’ fucking fight!” Ichigo yelled. “I’m not gonna’ stay in here one more fucking second and get beat up by the goddamn furniture!”

“Whoa, you’re really mad,” Renji muttered when Ichigo shouted right in his face.

Ichigo made his hands into claws and puffed his cheeks up in rage, and barked, “Yeah, wow, did you get it that time?! I’m fucking pissed off! I got shocked like ten times tonight and then sliced up by a fucking _lightbulb_ in _your_ house, and you think I’m the crazy one for not wanting to stay here! Do I look fucking stupid to you?!”

Hands still up, Renji quickly consoled, “I just think it’s been bad coincidences, babe.” With a sigh, he gave Ichigo a sad grimace. “Man, you’ve really let this all freak you out.”

Ichigo deflated then, and he did feel stupid and like a baby. Because that’s what Renji thought he was. Renji didn’t know about Shiro like he did, and there was no way to convince him. He thought Ichigo was a coward.

“C’mon, stay,” Renji coaxed, putting a hand to the side of Ichigo’s face once he saw his shoulders drop and his eyes go to the floor, his rage burning out. “I’ll stay up if it’ll make you feel better,” he murmured, coming closer and putting his arm around Ichigo, pressing his head on the side of Ichigo’s face to try and comfort him. Ichigo put his chin on Renji’s shoulder, brow furrowed. “You know you’re safe with me here.”

Ichigo hesitantly agreed.

This was why he hadn’t told Renji. That fucker was being nice about it, but he knew Renji thought he was being silly, getting scared over nothing.

Renji was so nice that Ichigo felt bad for losing his shit like that and shouting at him, but he didn’t apologize, just nestled his head by Renji’s hip and felt miserable. True to his word, Renji didn’t go to sleep; instead he sat up and read while Ichigo lay in bed next to him under the blankets, eyes closed.

His throat was tight with shame and exhaustion, when, after an hour spent still wide awake, Renji placed a warm hand on his head and stroked his hair, pulled on it and carded through it to try and help him fall asleep.

“Shh,” Renji hushed. “Go to sleep.”

Ichigo shut his eyes tight and buried his head against Renji’s side. Even though he didn’t always understand how Renji could love him after an unprovoked outburst like that, he was grateful that Renji still did anyways.


	9. Chapter 9

When Ichigo at last managed to get some sleep, he dreamt of Shiro again.

This one was not like the one from before in which he’d felt the pain and the terror with a crisp lifelike clarity. This was more like a normal dream, and by that, he meant extraordinary and irrational, with more primitive feelings and only fragmented rationale, a patchwork of memory and subconscious fear in which he was only partially in control.

It was himself and Shiro there, in some stretch of space. He could move and control his own body, but he was watching himself from a distance. He and Shiro were talking, all seeming fine, and Ichigo felt this eerie sense of false calm. Even though there was this creeping anticipation of something dark, he felt no alarm.

All of a sudden, things grew violent.

Shiro grabbed him by the face. He seemed to dig his nails in and pry into his skull, his jaw, his eyes, and rip his head apart with his bare hands. Ichigo watched from afar as the two of them struggled. He tried to stop looking, tried to cover his eyes in horror, but his eyes were that of the far-off Ichigo being torn to shreds by the dead boy.

He managed to stop watching, managed to shut his eyes until it was over, and when he opened them, all he saw was his own face looking back him, eyes black and gold, and as he watched, his mouth stretched in a smile. Ichigo recoiled, a jolt of revulsion shooting through him.

Ichigo looked down at the ground and saw himself - or what had once been him - lying motionless, face unrecognizable, his eyes turned to black holes and his mouth stretched in an empty jack-o-lantern’s grin. He was like a doll with the buttons taken off the eyes and the stitches taken off of the lips. He stared, horrified, unable to look away from the empty husk. Shiro had taken the life right out of him, had stolen something important.

“I’m going to hurt you like I was hurt,” Shiro said with his face. He looked exactly like Ichigo, alive and complete, except for the golden eyes. “I’m going to take it from you like it was taken from me.”

“But I didn’t take it!” he hollered after him desperately. “What happened to you?! Who hurt you?!” But there came no answer, and Ichigo watched as Shiro walked off with his body.

           

            He woke up with a gasp, that feeling of intense dread still in his gut.

It took him a second to realize where he was, and it came back to him when Renji, still awake but looking really tired, mumbled, “What?” yawning widely and asking him again, “What happened?”

He lay panting for a few seconds until the spike of terror faded, leaving only irritation. Ichigo simply grimaced when Renji continued, with more concern, to try and check on him. He growled to himself and turned over in bed.

“Jerk,” he muttered, glaring over at the wall.

Even though he wasn’t talking to Renji or about him, of course the poor guy would assume that when there was no one else in the room but the two of them. Renji rolled over towards him on the bed, but Ichigo ignored him, continuing to scowl and sulk at the unfairness of it all. What did he ever do to that Shiro guy, huh? Why was he such an ass?

“Aw, Ichiban, you’re not mad at me, are you?” he murmured sadly, voice whispery with exhaustion. “Don’t be mad at me. I don’t think you’re a baby.” Ichigo closed his eyes, trying to stop looking so cranky and stressed out, but Shiro’s face - or his own face being worn by Shiro - was still there in his mind. That jerk was gonna’ try and scare him, huh? He was going to try and beat him up and scare him out of the house? What a little asshole.

Inexplicably, Ichigo felt a little _betrayed_ by Shiro, even though it wasn’t like they’d ever actually spoken or become friends. It’s just, after those long days where Ichigo had sort of felt Shiro doing whatever in the corner of the room, he’d thought they’d been coexisting just fine. He'd felt like they'd had some kind of truce. Why was the guy doing this now?

“C’mon, I can’t even go to the bathroom alone after scary movies,” Renji rasped, rubbing his hand on Ichigo’s arm. “I don’t think you’re a baby.”

Ichigo sighed at last, but felt too exhausted to speak. Renji got down next to him and hugged him around the back, head nestled on Ichigo’s shoulder from behind. “I’m sorry, don’t be mad,” he tried.

“I’m not.”

“Really?” Propped up on his elbows, Renji got a look at his face, his hair down and tickling Ichigo’s brow.

“I’m not,” Ichigo repeated, and he wasn’t. Why should he be. He turned his head up and kissed Renji, opening his arm up to hug him back. He calmed himself down by petting Renji’s hair and snuggling against him under the blanket, staring at the ceiling and listening to Renji sleep. This was how it was supposed to have gone: him and Renji, getting serious and fixing up a house for them to be together in. They were supposed to console each other after bad days here, and enjoy themselves in the backyard, and make breakfast before work, and love each other, and make this their home. 

Ichigo closed his eyes with a deep frown, turning his nose into Renji's hair and squeezing his sleeping body for comfort. He'd wished for this for so long. Why did he have to get his wish right as this weird ghost shit started up? Why did have to watch the life he'd always wanted get fucked up? If he and Shiro could just get along, he and Renji could be happy...

He didn’t mean to drift off again, but he did, and this time when he dreamt and saw Shiro, he was suspicious, and stayed back from him, didn’t speak to him. He just watched.

It was him. It really was. It was as though he was looking at himself. Shiro looked exactly like him, wearing his stolen face.

He took Ichigo’s body and used it to talk to his family, his friends. Ichigo watched for a long time as Shiro lived his life and interacted with the people he cared about, his sisters, his dad, Keigo, Chad, Orihime - all of which made Ichigo uneasy enough, but then Renji was there, and his jaw slackened in dismay, and his silent watching was over, because he knew what happened next.

He tried to move closer, to do anything, but was either stuck in place or not making progress. He tried to look down at his feet, but there was nothing. He's nothing. “No,” he called, “No! Get away from him!”

They didn’t hear him though. As Ichigo watched with wide eyes, hoping that although no one else had realized it wasn't him, Renji, at least Renji would know. To his despair, like everyone else, Renji didn’t seem to tell any difference between him and Shiro, and why should he when Shiro looked like him and Ichigo was invisible?

Shiro took Renji’s face in his hands, and Renji looked at him with those loving eyes and held him in his arms. “That’s not me!” Ichigo shouted, feeling this frightening black emptiness open up with him, this latent fear that he wasn’t that much different from any other person, no matter what Renji said about being irreplaceable.

“Hey!” he hollered, breathing hard in panic when neither of them seemed to hear. They tilted their heads, moving together. No, not this. Please not this.

“Stop! You can’t do that!”

He didn’t know when he’d moved, but the next thing he knew, he grabbed Shiro by the shoulders, taking two big handfuls of his shirt and _yanked_ him back, and then it was just them, there was no one else but them, and he hurled Shiro to the ground with all the weight in his body and he hits him and _hits him._

“What’s wrong with you?!” he howled in a blind rage. “You’re jealous that I’m alive and you’re not? So you’re gonna’ fuck with me?! You’re gonna’ try and scare me and then fuck with me like this?!”

He gripped Shiro’s collar and punched his face, too worked up to feel anything past fury even as he beat his own face to a pulp. “Fuck you! It sucks that you died young but you don’t get to do this to people! You don’t get to do whatever you’re trying to do, possess me or whatever! You don’t get to act like me and take away what I love!” He shook him violently, banging him against the floor. “Don’t you fuck with me!”

“How does it feel to have it all taken away?” Suddenly lashing out, Shiro shoved him back, his nails raking Ichigo’s chest, and it hurt, it hurt so badly that Ichigo let him go and clutched his chest. God, he can’t breathe, why can’t he breathe? Maybe it was because he was screaming so much. The pain was so intense that it felt like the flesh on his chest was corroding.

“I’m gonna’ burn you,” was the last thing Ichigo heard, blinded by pain, “I’m gonna’ burn you like I was burned.”

Ichigo snapped awake and shot bolt-upright, still screaming. He stopped as soon as he realized, but the burning didn’t stop. Renji was shaking him. “Ichigo,” he begged, voice shaky with panic. He’s never heard Renji like that. “Ichigo, stop! Wake up!”

“Ow,” Ichigo cried, “Fuck!”

Renji gasped, “Baby, stop, you’re scaring me,” gripping him by the upper arms. Ichigo panted, holding his chest, and went still, ceasing his thrashing, and Renji sighed in relief, his body sagging as he embraced him. "Fuck, Ichigo."

Ichigo squirmed out, pulling his shirt off to feel at his tender chest. It was too dark to see, but he could feel it against his fingers. “He fucking scratched me,” Ichigo growled.

“What?” Renji breathed, running a soothing hand against Ichigo’s back. He could feel Renji’s fingers trembling.

“Shiro,” he muttered to himself darkly, “what the fuck are you trying to do?”

“Ichigo,” Renji said seriously, a disturbed note still in his voice, “You did that to yourself.” Ichigo looked back at him, mouth shut, hand clamped over the scratch-marks. “I tried to stop you, but you were going fucking nuts!” Renji burst then after a silent moment, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know what to do, I’ve never seen you do that.” Ichigo hung his head and Renji put his arms around him, sniffing and rubbing his head into Ichigo’s hair. “That really fucking scared me, you jerk,” he muttered.

Lying still, he let Renji squeeze him for a time, but at last said, “Renji, I’ve gotta’ move out.”

“Really?” Renji squeezed harder.

“Yeah,” Ichigo sighed. He didn’t want to scare Renji any worse, so he didn’t say anything more about the ghost being after him. He thinks he understands why now. This was why.

He held Renji back and muttered, “I think I need to clear my head. You were right. This place is getting to me.”

“Okay,” he said after a long time, clearly not liking it. “Okay. You’ll come back though, right?”

“I don’t wanna’ talk about this tonight,” Ichigo said, even though the sun was coming up.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just come back to me,” Renji whispered, at last letting his arms loosen. “Make sure you come back to me, Ichi.”

He closes his eyes and felt the gold and black burning beneath his lids, but still whispered, “I’ll try.”

 

. . .

_Oh, you’re gonna’ lose your soul, you’re gonna’ lose your soul tonight, tonight._


	10. Chapter 10

Ichigo went home for a few days. He didn’t feel the least bit worried about leaving Renji alone with that pissed-off ghost, because Shiro has never shown any interest in Renji or making his presence known at all to anyone except Ichigo.

Renji didn’t notice Shiro much, if at all, jokingly attributing the weird organized piles of rocks that appeared in the yard to aliens. He seemed to half-notice it when Shiro messed with Ichigo, or at least he knew what Ichigo was talking about when he referred to ‘the ghost’, but he just didn’t think much of open doors or malfunctioning electrical equipment. Ichigo wouldn’t have either a few months ago before he’d seen what he’d seen.

There was no way to unsee it. That’s why he had to go away and spend some nights at home.

Renji was all sad and junk over it, and called him on the phone a lot, pleading for him to come back, but Ichigo won’t, even though he knew he was probably worrying Renji, acting so distant.

His sisters were nice to him, at least, while he was home. Ichigo’s normal personality was indifferent and mildly brooding, but he must’ve been more scowly than normal. They probably thought he and his boyfriend were fighting or something. For god’s sake, Yuzu had made him homemade chocolate ice cream earlier in the day.

While Ichigo was eating it at the counter - god, he could weep from how good it is, and how good of a sister he has - Renji called again.

“Yeah?” he picked up. Renji wasted no time.

“Ichigo, are you gonna’ come back soon? I miss you,” he muttered. "... I really miss you."

“Dude, you know we can just meet wherever, right?” Ichigo pointed out, holding his cell inbetween his ear and shoulder, taking a bite of his ice cream.

"Except your house or my house," Renji complained.

"Yep. Lotta' options left still."

“So that’s it then?” Renji said rather breathlessly, like he didn’t know what to do. “You’re just never gonna’ come back?”

“Hmmm, I dunno’,” Ichigo considered. It did kinda’ suck to put Renji in that position where, although Ichigo hadn’t made it a choice between their relationship and the house, it kind of had turned out that way anyway, considering Renji loved the house and loved Ichigo, while Ichigo didn’t want to be anywhere near that place. “Can you trade the property or something?”

“But we put so much work into the house already,” Renji noted reasonably. “Besides, I’m attached to it.”

“Yeah, so’s someone else,” Ichigo shot back sarcastically.

“Ichigo. You’re paranoid.” Ichigo rolled his eyes, because he wasn’t going to be talked into that one again. There’s a difference between being paranoid and being scared for a reason, and Shiro was literally trying to kill him. Why would he go to a house where something was trying to _kill him?_

“Renji, you saw a lightbulb literally explode behind my head.”

“Yeah, that shit was bananas," he agreed. "But c’mon. _Ghosts?_ ”

“What, so you don’t believe in ghosts now?” Ichigo snapped. Renji had always majorly bought into that type of shit, so what the fuck, he's just gonna' stop believing it now that it's inconvenient?

“Well... you’re the one who always said that stuff was out there to scam people,” Renji hedged cautiously. Ichigo sighed. He had, hadn’t he.

“Well it is, but. . .” Ichigo trailed off.

“Okay, whatever, I didn't call to start a fight - I don’t wanna’ argue about whether or not ghosts are real, alright? I don’t know what I believe, but I do know that you feel creeped out being there, and I know it’s not good to live in a place you don’t feel safe in. . . but, babe, can’t you give it another chance?” Renji pleaded. “I really hoped that this was it for us. I mean, you don’t want me coming over to the clinic anymore, so… I tried to get us a place you would like, I really did.”

Feeling a pit of guilt knot itself in his heart at Renji’s sad tone, Ichigo grit out, “I know, but…”

“I mean… I know I can’t make it home to you if you just don’t feel it, but. . .” Ichigo put his hand to his forehead, covering his eyes and leaning against the counter with a sigh. “I dunno’, it just feels like... you’re pulling away. Please say I’m bein’ a jackass and imagining things. If I fucked up somewhere, I’m sorry.”

And for a moment, he wished Renji wouldn't be so serious, wished he wasn't taking this so hard and worrying that Ichigo was going to try and break things off. That fear though, that deeply buried fear of how many had come before him and how easily he could be placed into that line, just another lover with many to come after him, Ichigo couldn't erase that so easily, and the only way to put distance between himself and that fear, was the  _whatever_ , to let it come back so that it could smother and numb the emotions.

So instead of comforting Renji and reminding him again that he's not mad, he didn't 'need some space,' Ichigo instead brushed it off as nothing. “Look, just chill,” he sighed, “I’m gonna’ see you in a couple days anyways. We’ll talk about it then.”

“Okay. Okay,” Renji said uncertainly. “... I love you.”

“Yeah,” Ichigo replied softly. “See you soon.”

There should be no way for Shiro to affect him considering he wasn’t at the house, miles away from the haunted property - Ichigo still didn’t really think that there was a way for a ghost to affect dreams in the first place, but who knew anymore. Anyway, even being home at the clinic, Ichigo still dreamed about him anyways, just in passing, and thought about him a lot.

He thought about that one dream in Renji’s room, the way Shiro had taken his body and used it to kiss Renji . . .

Ichigo knew ghosts couldn’t affect dreams, but it made an eerie sort of sense that Shiro was upset with him. He seemed like a jealous guy.  

If he remembers, it hadn’t been until after the night he and Renji had gone clubbing that Shiro had started getting violent with him. They’d made love and then there’d been the whole thing about, if Ichigo remembers right, Shiro had said something about ‘taunting’ him.

He didn’t know why it was that night, because he and Renji had had sex in the house before, but it had really seemed to set Shiro off, because even if Ichigo didn’t remember every detail of that drunken night, he did remember the stark difference from the calm of the day before and the sudden malicious intent the day after.

Maybe it was because they’d done it after Ichigo had started to pay Shiro some attention, tried to make friends with him.

And sure, it was Ichigo’s dream, but Shiro had taken his body and tried to be him. Ichigo was bothered by that. There was no way he could make that _not_ bother him.

He was going to think about that and worry about it every time he was in that damn house, and that was what Renji didn’t understand. He wanted Ichigo to give it a second chance, but there was no way to erase that memory of all his worst fears, being that unspecial that it didn’t make a difference whether he was Ichigo or someone who looked like him, that replaceable, that easily copied.

There was no way to forget it. The only question left was whether or not that pain was worth it to live with Renji and live out the dream he’s always had of them being in that serious committed grown-up relationship.

Because trying to go back to the _whatever_ would likely destroy their already fragile relationship, that much was clear.


	11. Chapter 11

It was mid-July, so Ichigo’s birthday was in only a few days, and as always, it fell on the O-bon holiday, which was particularly ironic this year, considering the whole ghost business.

When he’d been younger, when losing his mother had still been very fresh, he would just shut down on his birthday. It hadn’t seemed fair that it fell on the same day as the soul festival, as the grave-cleaning, as the time everyone remembered and celebrated those who’d passed. How could he ever enjoy his birthday on a day like that.

As he’d grown up though, met Rukia and Renji, it had gotten easier. He knew that his mother, if there were an afterlife that allowed her to know what he was doing, which seemed unlikely, he knew that she would’ve wanted him to have fun and smile any day of the year.

Rukia was in China with her brother, so it was going to be a little lonely without her, but Ichigo had an alright birthday anyway. He and his family visited his mom’s grave that morning and made it all pretty with new flowers, and later on, he and Renji and his friends went to the festival and saw the fires burning on the mountain, the fireworks, the dancing, and enjoyed the fun.

At the end of the night, they separated, Renji going back, Ichigo returning home and watching their old family tapes of them as kids, playing with mom. He fell asleep on the couch with his sisters and his old man on the recliner.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, he was alone, tucked in under a blanket by one of them. Settling his hands on his stomach, he listened to the sounds of his childhood home, and couldn’t help but feel lonely for Renji. He’d been glued to Ichigo’s side all day, holding his hand openly in front of their friends and kissing him under the fireworks. His birthday gift had been this awesome custom-order hoodie with half a skull on the hood, red and white, and despite the July humidity, Ichigo had worn it all night.

Ichigo sighed. They’d carefully avoided talking about everything, just focusing on having a good day, even though he’d said they’d work through it tonight. Judging from the way he’d been on his best behavior tonight, with this sad hesitant look in his eyes like a scolded dog that still wanted to be pet, Renji was worried Ichigo was considering ending their relationship, and was trying to make him love him again. Ichigo hadn't bothered to assure him, because that would mean talking about it. Renji should already know how he felt.

Whatever.

“Dummy,” Ichigo mumbled, and felt this hard mass of loneliness intensify in his chest. Even if he’d just seen him a few hours ago, Ichigo wanted nothing more than to be with him right now and just hug him.

Giving a long frustrated sigh through his nose, Ichigo grimaced. He knew he should just go back, because why the fuck should he let a ghost get the upper hand on him and drive him and Renji apart? What, he was gonna’ run away like a little bitch because some ghost didn’t like him or something? Yeah right. This was his life, right? Not Shiro's. Besides, he should damn well do what he wanted on his birthday. 

Tossing the blanket off, Ichigo got up and on impulse, called a night cab, despite the extortionate rate after midnight on a holiday. Surprising his boyfriend by showing up unexpectedly would be worth it though. Renji was a sucker for romantic shit like that.

He used his house key and opened the creaky front door as quietly as he could, finding that all the downstairs lights were off. It wasn’t like Renji to go to bed so early, and even upon opening the door, staring down the main hallway, Ichigo already felt a prickling at the back of his neck, his heart beginning to pound.

He put a foot back, uneasiness taking over, but he grit his teeth. _‘No retreat.’_

It wasn’t quite as much of a surprise this way, but Ichigo didn’t like the idea of creeping around the house in the dark looking for Renji, so he went in and stood at the bottom of the stairs, calling his name, “Hey! Renji!” but heard no response. "Renji, you up?!"

In the quiet house, there was no way Renji hadn’t heard him if he was home, and it occurred to Ichigo then that Renji must’ve decided to stay out drinking or something with his buddies. Maybe he could surprise him after all if he went up and waited in bed for him to come home.

Ichigo swallowed hard at the idea of being alone in the house until then, but thought of how happy Renji would be to see him here. He’s going to get some serious boyfriend points. Renji’s all about that stuff. He could already feel the warmth in his gut at the thought of the birthday sex he’d just a few hours ago decided to pass this year.

He slipped his shoes off and went upstairs, not letting himself think too hard about the dark corners and the eerie noises of an old house, still unfamiliar and strange. Coming to Renji’s bedroom, he opened the door, and for a moment, stood there petrified, heart in his throat.

Renji was home, and he wasn’t alone. He was there, in bed with somebody.

Ichigo’s first reaction was to retreat in surprise, even apologize for walking in, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn't accept what he was seeing. His boyfriend was there under the sheets, tangled up with another writhing body, gasping and sighing.

Ichigo stared for a couple seconds, throat tightening up, his eyes prickling and welling up with tears, before his betrayal and stricken anguish turned to rage. Renji was gonna' act all sad during the day and try and win him back but then when it didn't work, he was gonna' go and do this? Whatever. Fine then.

He clenched his brow in a scowl, fists coiled, and then stomped forward and viciously yanked the sheets off. 

Renji gaped up at him in confusion, disheveled and hard as a rock in his sweats, his mouth kiss-bruised and his hair mussed-up and wild, but Ichigo just stared at him.

He was alone in the bed.


	12. Chapter 12

_I’ve been ghosting, I’ve been ghosting along, ghost in your house, ghost in your arms._  
  
_When you’re tossing, when you turn in your sleep, it’s because I’m ghosting your dreams._

_. . ._

 

That had been a hard night with some hard emotions.

Renji _finally_ seemed to realize that he should be scared, and got a little spooked after hearing what Ichigo told him about not having been in the house at all that night, not until he’d caught him in the bedroom and pulled the blanket off.

Ichigo was equally creeped out when Renji told him in turn that he’d been over all night, and when Ichigo had showed up and pulled the sheet off, it had been like waking up. Of course, he was less creeped out than he should be, considering he'd been dealing with this type of thing for months now and should have come to expect it. Mostly he was just feeling this intense sense of relief and gratefulness that he'd been mistaken about what he'd  _thought_ he'd seen.

“Are you sure?” Renji asked for like the third time, uneasiness plain on his face.

“Renji,” Ichigo said firmly, “I went home to the clinic at ten. We didn’t go back together.”

“No, I know, but… you were here,” he repeated in confusion, like he couldn’t make it work in his brain. “It was you. I mean... you’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Why would I _do_ that?!” Ichigo sputtered. “You saw what I saw!”

“I just… but it was like a normal night. We talked and stuff and… and…” Renji’s face grew blank, eyes unseeing. “The ghost,” he said. “I had ghost sex.”

Ichigo facepalmed. _That’s_ what he took away from it?     “Yeah, okay.”     Apparently he was stuck on it, because Renji kept saying it, at first horrified, and then strangely, a little into it. “Ugh, unbelievable,” Ichigo groaned, “How do you get turned on by that shit.”

“It was great, you were really into it. I mean, ghost-you. Well… the ghost, I mean.” Renji seemed embarrassed then, maybe that he hadn’t been able to tell them apart. When Ichigo just sort of stared at him, incredulous and on the edge of bursting out laughing, Renji mistook his silence for anger, and muttered tentatively, “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Uhh, no? How were you supposed to know.”

“I feel like I should’ve realized though,” Renji sighed, grimacing and putting his chin in his hand, leaning on the kitchen table. Ichigo yawned. They hadn’t gotten any sleep last night after that whole incident, having yelled at each other in shock for a few minutes and then decided to get the fuck out of there and stay in a hotel for the night. They’d come back around noon, and although the halls were strangely quiet, Ichigo felt like it wouldn’t last if they stayed very long.

Strangely, this didn’t bother him anymore. He didn't feel that insecure  _whatever_ feeling anymore, or any fear at all, really.

“Seriously though,” Renji muttered, holding onto his hand across the table, rubbing his thumb over it. “Fucking _creepy.”_ Ichigo shrugged. “Hey.” He looked up. “Sorry I kept calling you crazy before.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know, but I know that’s how I made you feel,” Renji apologized. “... I’ll sell it if you want.”

“Nah.”

“I think I should.” Slowly, he worked out, “I mean, it’s tried hurting you, hasn’t it. All that stuff…” He looked at Ichigo’s arm, out of the bandage, but still heavily scabbed.

“No, don’t,” Ichigo brushed off, “I’m not worried anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Just leave it to me.”

He’d kind of reached the point where he was done entertaining this shit, past the point where he could be scared off with parlor tricks. Shiro had gone so far over the boundaries that Ichigo just didn’t care anymore. He’d touched on Ichigo’s latent fear of being abandoned, his secret worry that Renji hadn’t committed because he wasn’t good enough, or was somehow lacking.

It wasn’t that Ichigo was jealous, because he wasn’t and never had been. Due to Renji’s flirty personality, it was a good thing that he wasn’t, but seeing what he’d seen last night had devastated him, even for just the few moments that he’d thought Renji had really…

That bastard ghost was gonna’ fuck with him? Nah, they’re not having this. You’re not gonna’ fuck Ichigo’s boyfriend, son.

Renji frowned. “What’re you gonna’ do?”

“You’ll see."

The rest of the day went on as normal. He and Renji did some work around the house. They’d stopped several weeks ago when Ichigo had started having doubts about wanting live here, but they fell back into the routine pretty quickly. Ichigo mowed the grass and Renji fucked around on the roof, cleaning the gutters.

When they went to bed some time later after cooking dinner together and playing Tekken, Ichigo could smell that Renji had done the laundry and changed the sheets. For a second, Ichigo didn’t know what to do, lying in bed rather stiffly, but Renji reached an arm out for him tentatively with this warm soft gleam in his eyes, and they just held each other in silence until falling asleep.

Ichigo woke up in the dark, and this time, there was no crying, no slamming doors, no bad dreams, but he knew he was out there waiting. He sat up and got out of bed, checked that Renji was still sleeping and then opened the door.

That night when Ichigo saw Shiro in the hallway, he walked towards him.

His heart jolted when Shiro rushed at him, but Ichigo didn’t turn away despite the spike of terror trying to lock his joints. It took only a second or two for Shiro to reach him, and instead of colliding with a hard body, it felt like that strange sensation of going to drink a soda immediately after opening it and inhaling the mist accidentally, half-choking on it.

Everything around him seemed to shake and whirl in that moment of soda-mist choking, and then there was blackness.

And they’re together.

Ichigo had never felt less afraid of a ghost, not since he hadn’t believed in them. Even in the stretch of dark space, enclosed on all sides with nothingness, there wasn’t any more fear. Why should there be, when he knew where he was in the waking world, up there in bed with Renji wrapped around him? 

“Why’re you doing this, huh?” he called into the void, looking around him wildly for any sign of him. He knew he was there, but where was he?

“You’re trying to be me? You like Renji?” He shook his head. “Shiro, I’m sorry. You’re dead.” Throwing his arm out, he told him, “An’ Renji loves me, not you.”

Earlier, he’d thought he’d be mad, that he’d react with violence like he had before with the whole kiss Renji in a dream thing, but honestly, Ichigo felt sad for Shiro more than anything now. It was kind of a miserable existence, to leech onto someone else’s life like that.

“I’m like you,” he heard at last, a whisper, far away, from all sides, echoing around him like a fluttering insect. Ichigo looked around him as the sound blew past.

“Like me? I mean, we look alike, yeah,” he said slowly. So Shiro was here after all, huh? Not wanting to provoke him any worse if he could talk to him directly at last and try to understand his feelings, Ichigo said carefully, “Is that why you’re mad? You’re jealous of me?”

“I’m like you,” he heard again, this little whisper of a voice. “I loved a boy.”

Ichigo didn’t know what to say to that, just looked around him in silence for a few moments, at last wondering, “... Did the boy die?”

“He pretended I made him, to get out of trouble,” Shiro said, voice contorting through different shades of pain, betrayal, anger, _wretched bitterness._

 "You got caught toge-" Ichigo grunted, feeling weak all of a sudden.

He clutched at his chest, his breath coming out raspy and short when Shiro snapped, _“He ran.”_   Ichigo could feel him then, as if the very air was bearing down on him, clawing into his neck and his face and his chest.

“And you know what my family did to me?” Ichigo’s eyes snapped around wildly at the eerie echo coming louder, harsher, a vicious snarl. “You know what they fucking did?”

 _‘The crying,’_ he thought suddenly.

They were back in that little room again, under the house, and this time it was dank, and dirty, and smelled of death. And all he heard was screams, horrible screaming and the occasional sob and plea. They'd put him in here, hadn't they, for days in the dark, all alone, and when at last they'd come down to find him, filthy and starving, they hadn't let him out. 

 _"You know what they fucking did to me?"_  Shiro raged.

“An exorcism,” he whispered.

“They strapped me down in a chair, for hours. Thought I was possessed and that they could _help_ me if I just got weak enough for them to get the devil out of me, and you know what? They fucking tortured me until I died.”

And Ichigo felt it, he felt the falling book hitting him in the back like a strap, he felt the lightswitch shocking him like live wires under his fingernails and taped to his head and his chest. He felt himself screaming in his sleep and clawing fruitlessly at his chest, burning, burning, hot wax poured on his bare flesh, but the pain didn’t end, it didn’t end until the blackness came, and then there was nothing else.

“They beat me and electrocuted me and  _burned me,_  and I fucking died,” Shiro snapped, growling like an animal, his voice stretched with barely withheld rage and sorrow. “And then they put me out and I stank in the sun.”

When at last Ichigo stopped thrashing and screaming, the feeling of his flesh decaying and his lungs and eyeholes and empty gut filling up with soil, he collapsed forward, sweating and gasping, and he managed to stand up from the chair, and there was Shiro, alight with rage.

“Okay,” he whispered, wiping his wet face and putting his hands on his head. “Yeah.”

Body trembling with exertion, Ichigo felt sad and understood all the pain and anger and rage that person felt. He’d always lived this sort of indifferent mellow life after his mom died, not really caring what others thought of him, but there weren’t many consequences anymore, considering he was strong enough to beat up the only bullies he still faced. He couldn’t imagine not being able to live freely. He can’t imagine being hurt like that for living the way he does.

“Don’t fucking stand there and act like you feel sorry for me,” Shiro shouted, spitting in rage. “Don’t pretend you could ever understand the pain I feel! I’m dead! My family _killed me!”_ he screamed, tearing at his chest.

“You’re right,” Ichigo panted, “You’re right, I can’t.” He straightened up, holding a hand out as the room faded away into that stretch of black space again. Shiro’s golden eyes are there, and when he blinked, he was gone. “But the boy,” Ichigo said, catching his breath, “I understand that. I know how that feels.”

Taking a few steps around in the blackness, he could feel Shiro drawing away, curling in on himself as the anger receded, leaving only bitterness and heartbreak and pain and _why-why-why._ “I can’t imagine being told I have to let go of someone I love. I don't know what I would do,” Ichigo said. “Your family was wrong for what they did.”

“Why did he leave?” came the tiny whisper. “Why did he run away?”

Ichigo swallowed hard. “... He was afraid.”

“He left me to die,” Shiro wrenched out.

Ichigo didn’t have an answer for that. “What those people did wasn’t fair.” He thought to himself for a few moments, then said, “But whatever you’re doing, it won’t make you feel better. It won’t take away that pain.” He shook his head. “I might be the same as you, but that boy though, Renji’s not that boy.”

“Is that what you really think?”

He stopped then. “What does that mean?”

“You think he loves you more than my boy did?”

“I know Renji loves me,” Ichigo said, hesitantly.

“Then why are you afraid he’ll run away too.” Ichigo was the one to draw away then, feeling speechless and small.

“I... I’m not,” he muttered.

“Then why don’t you say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

Ichigo didn’t reply, and in the silence and emptiness of the endless darkness, the pain and anger and wild despair of Shiro’s rage had washed out of focus, leaving behind a quiet sadness, a sense of regret.

“You should. I wish I had.”

                 Ichigo woke up.

 

The following day was disarmingly normal. Nothing else really happened after that. Even the general feeling through the house was different, the dark malicious intent seemed to have gone, and even that peaceful feeling Ichigo had gotten when he and Shiro had briefly gotten along, that wasn’t there either. There was just nothing. 

Ichigo didn’t know how to feel. Despite the release, there was this surreal sense of discontent in his chest.

There was a huge pile of rocks in the back yard though, and a little spotted cat playing in the grass with a moth.

Renji came out onto the back porch and stood beside him, sipping his coffee. Ichigo didn’t reply, looking out over the woods, somehow saddened.

“It’s gone,” Renji noted.

So he felt it too, huh?

“Yeah, I guess so.”

 

. . .

_And this is why I have decided to pull these old white sheets from my head._

_I_ _’ll leave them folded neat and tidy so that you’ll know I’m out of hiding._


	13. Chapter 13

They don’t see any more of Shiro after that.

Renovations went pretty smoothly, the sun shining through the house and sparkling on the old floors, the last of the dust taken out of the corners. The only place they left alone was the basement room, the door locked for good.

Even though whatever presence had been trapped in this place had gone, Ichigo thought of it daily, even if only in passing. It was alarmingly easy to forget, to move on with life as he had before.

The thing that stuck in his head though, the thing that kept bothering him was those last words from the boy who’d died: _‘I wish I had.’_

Ichigo couldn’t forget that, feeling guilt overshadowing him daily.

He knew what he had to do. At this point it seemed kind of dumb to avoid it any longer.

In the middle of August, he went out with his family and brought Renji along, who was actually really happy to see his sisters - which made Ichigo feel bad for neglecting to bring Renji over for so long. Maybe he had been kind of selfish in his stubbornness. All that time he’d told himself there was no point making trouble, maybe he’d just been making excuses.

When Renji was up ahead with the twins, he came out to his dad. He wasn’t nervous. It wasn’t exactly a hard thing to say, considering it wasn’t really a secret.

Isshin wasn’t happy about it when he told him. That wasn’t to say he was disapproving, but he wasn’t ecstatic. It’s not like he could really be surprised either, because Ichigo hasn’t exactly been shy of the fact that he had a boyfriend. He knew his family already knew.

Like usual when the subject of Renji came up, his dad still tried to mention Orihime a lot and what she was up to, and at last, Ichigo sighed and said directly, “Dad, you know I’m gay.”

His father sighed. Ichigo waited for what he would say, at last hearing him mutter, “I suppose after this long, you’re not gonna’ grow out of it.”

“Dad, did you really believe that 'it’s-just-a-phase' bullshit?” Ichigo replied in exasperation. He’d never been scared to tell his dad exactly, but there had been this part of him that had wanted to avoid facing his disappointment.

“I guess not. I’m just sad I won’t get any grandbabies.” Ichigo shook his head with a half-smile. He was at least thankful that his dad seemed to be taking this conversation seriously, knowing well enough that it wasn’t the time to act like a goofball.

“You have the girls still,” he noted.

“Who said there’s a man alive good enough for my girls?”

“Point.”

“It’s just tough to know how hard life’s going to be for my boy.”

“Dad, my life’s not hard,” Ichigo sighed with a smile, looking off to where Renji and his sisters were walking ahead of them, screwing around and laughing. “Every since I’ve been with Renji, I’ve been a lot happier. You can see that, can’t you?”

“I suppose I do.”

“You’re not disappointed?” he wondered.

“No.”

He hadn’t even felt like he’d been holding it in, hadn’t felt like he was hiding anything, but somehow, despite it not having been much, his heart felt a thousand times lighter. He felt free.

There was still something else though.

Some days later Ichigo sat and read in the living room, feet up, when there came a sudden clatter. “Hey,” he called mildly, “Shiro, stop knocking shit off the shelves.”

It was like old times for a second or two, until a little animal zipped across the floor with Renji thundering after it.

“Boo!” Renji teased, popping out from behind the couch, spooking their kitty so much that it puffed up and leaped onto Ichigo’s legs. He pet the kitten’s back and watched as Renji coaxed it down onto the floor to play by zipping a piece of string around.

“Hey,” Renji wondered, rolling on his back and laughing when the cat climbed onto his stomach, little claws hooked into his shirt. “Why did you name it ‘White’ when it’s not white, Ichigo?”

Ichigo shrugged.

Renji lay on the carpet, gently wiggling a finger next to Ichigo’s foot to attract the cat’s attention and get it to come over and paw at Ichigo’s toes. Ichigo snorted and pulled his foot back, which only made Shiro pounce and start gnawing its tiny little baby teeth against his toe.

Getting up and tossing himself on the couch next to Ichigo, Renji turned the TV on and unrolled himself, lying across his lap. He could feel their cat scaling his leg with its little claws pricking into his pants, small meows coming up over the side of the couch. “Hey. Help 'im.”

“He’s got it. You can do it, little guy! Yeahhh,” Renji encouraged when Shiro made it over the cushion and up onto his belly.

After a few minutes of watching his show and petting the cat, Renji yawned, and Ichigo put his book down, fidgeting with a piece of Renji’s hair. He didn’t know why this part felt harder than coming out to his dad, so much that he'd put it off for a few more days. Renji already knew, didn’t he? There was no reason to feel like this.

“Renji?” he said, drawing his attention. “I . . .” He looked away, swiping at his nose. Somehow it didn't feel like the right moment. “I… love you,” he muttered, frowning and feeling inexplicably insecure.

“Pff’,” Renji snorted, “You look like you’re about to strain something.”

“Ugggh. I was trying to…” Ichigo shook his head and huffed, crossing his arms. Renji smiled, picking a hand up to brush against his chin.

“Yeah.”

“You know that I do, huh?” Ichigo wondered with a frown, skating a hand over Renji’s forehead, smoothing his hair back. “I have for a long time. I know I haven’t said so though. Don’t know why not.” Renji smiled. “I mean, I know you’ve already said it to me, so there’s no reason to get all… but… Yeah, I do. Love you, I mean. Dunno' why I've been afraid to say so for so long.”

Renji beamed and flicked his nose. “Same.” Renji grinned a little. "But I'm glad you did." He didn’t know why, but he sighed in relief and smiled back when Renji leaned up to kiss him.

 

. . .

 

That night when Ichigo lay awake in bed, he heard something downstairs.

          Someone’s singing.


End file.
